


Press Start to Play

by jumpthisship



Series: Press Start To Play [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: AND SMOOCHES, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, And Romance, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Video Game AU, Violence, and action/adventure, but nothing too graphic, eventually, i swear it's not THAT dark, it's like a mixture of humor and everyone having a bad time, mentions of offscreen OC suicide and character death, some disturbing imagery, there are guns and robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-01-05 19:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 116,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18372722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jumpthisship/pseuds/jumpthisship
Summary: Chanyeol wakes up in the fictional futuristic world from the video game he just bought, Paran, and is told by his moody new guide that he has to battle hordes of robots and an evil dictator to beat the game. His life just gets crazier and more unbelievable from there.[a fic I wrote and posted on livejournal in 2015-2016, cross-posted on a whim]





	1. Chapter 1

Chanyeol wakes up feeling weird in his own body. Consciousness comes slowly, rather than all at once, like he’s floating up from the depths of a deep, dark pool. He breathes in, and everything feels wrong. Tastes wrong. Smells wrong. He opens his eyes.

A hazy blue-green sky stretches above him, cloudless and dull, and the sun burns into his eyelids when he closes them against the glare. He registers vaguely that there’s grass underneath him, long and tangling in his fingers. “What the hell?” 

He sits up, and his head spins, making him blink. When his visions clears, he sees grassy plains stretching around him in every direction, flat and unbroken, all the way to the horizon. Behind him, the grasslands seem to go on endlessly, but in front of him the horizon is broken up by a faint silhouette of hills or mountains, and a bit to his right he can see the outline of what looks like it might be buildings. 

In other words, he is not in his bed in his little studio apartment in Seoul. He doesn’t even think he’s in _Korea._ “What the _hell?_ ” 

It takes him a moment to notice the bluish sword lying in the grass next to his right hand, pulsing with a faint light, and the fact that his whole body is covered in something black and form-fitting. An ear-splitting screech fills the silent air, and Chanyeol can already tell he’s not going to like this dream. 

He seriously has no idea where the little robots come from. One second, he’s alone in the middle of the grass, and the next, there are foot-tall metallic creatures scrambling towards him, eyes glowing red, spiky crablike legs throwing up dirt and grass as they run towards him. They make horrible high-pitched noises, terrifying and grating like knives scraping on plates, and they don’t look friendly. Terror grips Chanyeol’s chest, cold and all-consuming, and on instinct, he reaches for the mysterious blade beside him. He’s not fast enough, though; the first robot reaches him, two sharp arms raised, and pain slices across Chanyeol’s shins. 

“Shit!” He scrambles to his feet, slashing out with his sword in a desperate attempt at defense. It’s lightweight and easy to swing, and Chanyeol feels the tip of it clip the first of the monsters. It screeches, scuttling back, then lunges in again. Yelping, Chanyeol holds onto his sword with both hands and takes a swing. 

This time, his blade slams right into the thing, and it explodes into grey and black pixels. Chanyeol jumps back, startled, but he doesn’t have time to properly react before the next one is charging towards him at full speed, followed closely by a third. 

Breathing harshly, heart pounding erratically, Chanyeol swings his sword wildly, too shocked and confused and terrified to be methodical about it. He hits one, making it stagger back with another metallic squeal, but the other goes for Chanyeol’s legs, and he feels something sharp stab into his calf. “Fuck!” he yells, this time in exasperation as much as pain, and slashes out. A couple more swings, and a couple more injuries, and the robots explode like the first. “Holy shit, what is happening? What kind of messed-up dream _is_ this?”

The remainder of the little robots don’t answer him, choosing instead to attempt to take out his knees. They lunge fearlessly, seemingly unaware of the blade cutting into them as Chanyeol tries to back away and defend himself at the same time. A fourth one explodes, then a fifth. There’s shooting, searing pain in both of Chanyeol’s legs, but it’s not unbearable. A sixth goes down—Chanyeol realizes it only takes two decent hits to kill them, if indeed that’s what he’s doing when they explode. His panic lessens slightly in light of this knowledge. They’re fast and loud and they look terrifying, but they’re small, and they’re not hard to destroy once he has a little more focus. 

One of the bots gets in a good slash in the soft flesh just above and behind his knee, and the white hot pain of it sends Chanyeol into a temporary rage. He hacks and swings ruthlessly, stabbing at screeching metallic creatures, until one by one the rest of them disappear into a burst of pixels. When the last one vanishes, Chanyeol stands in place with his sword held ready, body still tense, heart still pounding. 

But nothing happens. He’s alone again, a soft breeze ruffling his hair, the plains around him empty and still. He exhales slowly, then slumps down to the grass. 

“This is so messed up,” he whispers, and catches something flickering in his peripheral vision. He turns sharply, fingers tightening around the grip of his sword again, but then he realizes it’s...words. Floating, holographic words, a couple inches above his right shoulder. There’s a white bar, labelled _HP_ , and it’s only half full. Above that is a flickering red timer, with a countdown starting at 20 and slowly ticking down to 19, 18, 17. _Injured_ , it says in bold red letters. Above that, in white again, are the letters CHANYEO. “What?”

The timer brings his attention back to his legs, which are still searing with pain more intense than he thought it was possible to experience in a dream. It’s shockingly realistic, and he winces as he stretches them out in front of him. His legs are covered in thick, stretchy black material, like the rest of his body seems to be, and there are long gashes in the fabric above the tops of his black boots, baring equally long cuts in his skin. Most of them are oozing crimson blood, but as Chanyeol watches, the lesions shrink, and the blood disappears. Soon, they’re nothing but the palest of scars, and even more bizarrely, the black fabric of Chanyeol’s outfit knits back together over his skin, leaving it unmarred and whole again. Breathless, Chanyeol tugs the gloves off his hands and runs his fingertips over his knees and shins. There’s nothing but a faint, lingering throb of pain. The timer over his shoulder reaches 0 and vanishes. 

“This is crazy,” he breathes. “This is so crazy. This is the weirdest fucking dream I’ve ever had. I’d like to wake up now, thanks.” 

But he doesn’t. 

He knew he should have gone to bed instead of playing the new sci-fi game he picked up at the pawn shop after work. He was exhausted in the first place; he doesn’t even know if he made it past the part where he started typing in his name. And now he’s having super freaky, lucid dreams because of it.

Trying to breathe deep and even, Chanyeol inspects himself. He seems to be wearing some sort of thick, spandex-y bodysuit, which is super weird and not exactly his style. There’s hard, plasticky plating over his chest and forearms and thighs, and the fabric goes all the way up his neck, encasing him in a full-body outfit that should be a literal furnace in this sunny weather, but is actually quite comfortable. His boots are tall and armoured, with a complex set of buckles that fit them to his calves, and the gloves he’d been wearing have hard plating over the backs. His bizarre outfit is completed by a utility belt around his waist that appears to keep itself in place with sheer magic, and all it contains is an electronic device that Chanyeol doesn’t recognize, about the size and weight of a large walkie talkie, and a clip on his left hip that can only be for his sword.

He takes a moment to examine his weapon. It’s obviously not made out of metal; it’s way too lightweight for that, and to be honest Chanyeol doesn’t even know if it’s made out of solid matter at all. The grip and crossbar are sturdy and hard, but the blade seems to be a bizarre mixture of matter and energy, hard and sharp but at the same time strangely electric or something. There’s a little button near the crossbars, and Chanyeol presses it with his thumb. With a flash of light, the blade vanishes, and the crossbars flip up, making it just one long bar. It clips easily onto his belt. 

“My subconscious imagination is fucking amazing,” Chanyeol mutters, standing up. 

Unable to forcefully wake himself up, there’s honestly not much Chanyeol can do, so he just starts walking. With nothing in sight except those distant mountains and the outline of the buildings, he heads towards the closer of the two, hoping it won’t be full of more homicidal robots or anything. He’d really love that. 

Moving across the plains feels weird. _Chanyeol_ feels weird, for one thing, all awkward and slightly clumsy, but that’s besides the point. He keeps walking and walking, but nothing seems to move, except the buildings getting closer. He doesn’t think it’s that far away, but time seems to move strangely, with only the repetitive sound of his own footsteps to keep track of the seconds. He’s not hot or cold, though, and his legs don’t get tired. It gives him time to clear his head, so he doesn’t mind it. 

Except that as he clears his head, he becomes more and more concerned that this _isn’t_ a dream. In all his life, Chanyeol has never had a dream this realistic. He has never had a dream where he felt like he was in control of himself. He’s never had a dream where he could look around, and inspect, and _think_ so clearly. When he pinches himself, it hurts. Some parts of what’s happening to him are distinctly dreamlike—not knowing how he got where he is, the robots, his weird clothes and gadgets, the hovering stats over his shoulder, the speed of his healing—but at the same time, it doesn’t _feel_ like any dream Chanyeol’s ever had before. 

And that scares him. So he sticks with being really confused.

By the time Chanyeol reaches the buildings, he’s prepared himself for just about anything. So when he sees what they look like, he’s not all that shocked. Nothing could be weirder than a bunch of little robots trying to shred his knees. 

That being said, he’s never seen buildings like the ones he’s seeing now. They look like different-sized boxes stacked on top of each other, like little apartment buildings made out of really huge lego blocks. The first ones are fairly short, three or four storeys high with maybe six or seven different homes making up the body, but as Chanyeol wanders farther in, gazing up at weather-beaten, rusting buildings, they grow taller and more precarious. None of them seem enormous, and the village he finds himself in doesn’t appear to be huge, either, with buildings placed far apart rather than densely clustered. Nothing is shiny and new, most walls encrusted with grime, but it certainly looks _different._ Corners are rounded, but lines are straight, and most of the box houses are white, but the occasional one is faded pink or burnt orange or cloudy blue, maybe once vibrant and striking. 

A dull buzzer goes off, and Chanyeol starts, suddenly realizing the village had been eerily silent until now. At the sound, people come trickling out of doors, including those from buildings higher up. Small platforms act as elevators along every building, rising up like hovercrafts, waiting for people to step onto them before lowering back to the ground. Chanyeol watches in fascination. At first, the appearance of people scares him, but none of them appear to have any ill intentions towards him. None of them even give him a second glance, too focused on hurrying away to wherever they want to go. Chanyeol watches in interest as they all scan something in their hands as they leave or enter houses, or step on elevators. 

He wanders a little, watching and observing, slowly picking up that the smaller, lower buildings are workplaces, and the higher ones are homes, sometimes stacked on _top_ of workplaces. Every building has a door, and everyone scans their somethings at them before going inside. Chanyeol approaches one, inspects the little sensor next to the doorframe, and tries the handle. It doesn’t give.

He looks around, makes sure no one was watching him, and slinks away. 

He finally finds a building with open doors a while later, and the hinges on the frame are broken and the sensor is smashed, which is obviously super suspicious. But he can see people sitting around and chatting inside, drinking mysterious liquids from tall cups, so he goes in. 

Everyone in the room turns to stare at him, and Chanyeol gives a tentative smile. A light in the corner is flickering, and a tiny robot thing is mixing a drink deftly behind the counter as another washes a cup at the back. Clearing his throat, Chanyeol walks up to the counter and faces the woman behind it with his jaw set. The word BARKEEPER hovers above her shoulder. “Could you tell me, like—” His voice isn’t as steady as he’d been hoping. “—where I am? And what’s going on? And maybe what year it is?” 

A single line of white words blinks in front of Chanyeol, just about at chest level and a foot in front of him. _> Ask for help_, it says. That’s it. _That’s what I’m doing,_ Chanyeol thinks peevishly, ignoring how weird the floating words are. Honestly, right now, _everything_ is weird.

The woman looks at his face, and her gaze trails down to his outfit before flicking back to his eyes. “I think I know a guy,” she says, wiping her hands on a large rag. 

“Huh?” Chanyeol squints. “I didn’t ask for a guy. I asked for some pretty basic information. I just got attacked by robots, I’m not interested in meeting people.” _> Ask for details_, say new words in front of him. He frowns. “Can you just answer my questions?”

The woman leans her hip against the counter, eyes sharp. “He lives down the street. 366. Knock for him.”

“Your shoulder says Barkeeper but this sounds an awful lot like either a super sketchy brothel, or a way of getting me murdered,” Chanyeol says, always a little too mouthy when he’s nervous. “Either way, I’m not interested.”

The woman doesn’t laugh. The counter lights up holographically, an order appearing on the screen, and she drags it to the drink-mixing robots with her fingertip. Chanyeol waits. “He might be able to help you. Ask him nicely.”

Groaning, Chanyeol turns around and walks out of the bar. Once again, there’s not a whole lot he can do. Either he can decide to stand around and wait to wake up or die, or he can go to building 366. And he’s not very good at waiting. 

The building in question isn’t hard to find. It starts at 360, and 366 is stacked near the top, unassuming and insignificant. Uncertain, Chanyeol climbs into the floating platform, but it doesn’t go up, no matter how many times he tries. He figures he needs a thing to scan over the sensor. Sighing, he clambers back out—the door to the platform doesn’t open for him, either—and knocks on the bottom door. No one answers. He presses the button next to the door, thinking it might be a doorbell. 

Another holographic screen pops up, with the numbers 360 to 367. Chanyeol grins, strangely proud of himself. He presses on 366 repeatedly, and finally, the door overhead opens. “Fuck, you’re annoying,” says a new voice. 

The platform rises beside him, and Chanyeol scrambles back to watch a young man step onto it, scanning his thing, and lower to the ground. He steps off and looks Chanyeol up and down. 

“Welcome to Hath,” he says. “I’m Kyungsoo. Are you going to free Paran?”

Chanyeol stares. The man in front of him—Kyungsoo—is quite a bit shorter than him, and he doesn’t look a day over 20. His red hair is shaved on the sides, like some kind of punk, and his white shirt is long, like a tunic. But his eyes are dark and serious, and Chanyeol is strangely intimidated. “Uh,” he says. “What?”

Kyungsoo purses his lips. “I said, _Welcome to Hath. I’m Kyungsoo. Are you going to free Paran?_ ” 

Chanyeol’s mind whirs, not even entirely sure if they’re speaking the same language. “Look, the lady at the sci-fi bar told me to come find you, so here I am. Can you please explain to me what’s going on?”

Kyungsoo huffs, but his face remains impassive and unreadable. “Is it your plan to save Paran? If so, I may be able to assist you.” 

“I’m not planning to do anything!” Chanyeol says, a little overwhelmed and agitated all of a sudden. “I’m just trying to figure out what the hell is going on! So can someone please just tell me straight up where I am?”

Finally, Kyungsoo’s expression breaks, and he sighs in frustration, dark eyebrows furrowing. “Look, I know you’re confused, but did you even watch the opening cutscene?” 

“What?” Chanyeol practically wheezes. 

“Look, dude, you’re in Paran. You’re the new hero. You don’t have a choice. So deal with it,” Kyungsoo says, voice sharp. “You’re not dreaming. You’re not hallucinating. You. Are. Here.”

“I’m _where?!_ ” Chanyeol asks, voice rising in both pitch and volume. “What is going on?”

Clearly annoyed, but also maybe a little confused himself, Kyungsoo shoves a finger into Chanyeol’s chest. “ _Pa. Ran._ The futuristic country. You know, sci-fi. Robots. Laser guns. Threat of death.” He punctuates this with a prod to Chanyeol’s chest; it doesn’t hurt through his armoured bodysuit. “You’re currently in Hath, one of the farthest and most ignored villages from the capital. Any of this ringing a bell? Did you seriously not watch the cutscene?”

“What cutscene?” Chanyeol asks desperately, and then suddenly, something clicks. “Wait, are you talking about the video game? The one I bought yesterday?” 

Kyungsoo clenches his jaw. “Of course I am.”

“I fell asleep before I even got to start playing!” Chanyeol says, feeling a little sick. “I have no idea what the fuck is going on.”

Kyungsoo cringes visibly. “Wow, that’s a whole new level of inexperienced,” he mutters. “I can’t believe you _missed the cutscene._ ”

Chanyeol barely contains a whimper. “What’s happening to me?” he asks pitifully. 

Kyungsoo looks up at him, then takes a step back. “Look around you, hero,” he says. “This country is your home now, and you’re gonna save it.”

“What?” The word comes out breathy and terrified. 

“Come on.” Kyungsoo exhales through his nose as he beckons him towards the building behind him, walking backwards to the platform. “Let’s discuss over a couple drinks. Your HP could use a boost anyway.”

Head spinning with confusion and the beginnings of what Chanyeol thinks might be a panic attack, he stumbles after the shorter man, stepping onto the platform. 

“You need to scan your ID card,” Kyungsoo mutters, and Chanyeol jumps in surprise when small fingers start groping at his utility belt. But all Kyungsoo does is unclip his mysterious electronic device deftly and slide a translucent blue chip the size of a credit card out of a slot Chanyeol hadn’t known existed. 

“I didn’t know I had one of those,” he says numbly. 

“Yeah, well, you would if you’d been awake during the cutscene,” Kyungsoo sighs, passing it over the platform’s sensor before handing it back to him. “You need to take it out of the slot to equip it. Lots of people keep their ID cards with their ECDs, since they need both of them on their person at all times.”

“Their whats?” Chanyeol asks as the platform begins to rise with a slight jolt. He takes the two items back and stares at them. 

“ECDs. It stands for Electronic Currency Device. It’s your futuristic wallet, or debit card I guess—instead of carrying around cash, you jack in your ECD, transfer currency from your account to someone else’s. Saves you the trouble of counting coins. It’s DNA sensitive, so no one can use yours but yourself, unless they’re hackers.”

The information rattles around Chanyeol’s skull. “Okay,” he says vaguely. He looks at his ID card as they reach Kyungsoo’s door and step inside, scanning them again as they do. All it says is his name and a string of numbers that makes no sense to him. “Why does all my stuff say _Chanyeo_ on it?” 

Kyungsoo glances at him as he leads the way into a tiny house. Chanyeol allows himself to be led to a chair next to a sleek black table and sits down heavily. “That’s not your name?”

“No, it’s _Chanyeol_ ,” he says. “With an L.”

Kyungsoo snorts, setting a glass of something violently purple in front of him. “Did you spell your name wrong when you were entering it?”

Chanyeol squints, taking a swig from the cup and coughing when it’s more bitter and sour than he’d expected. “What is this?” he asks, cringing, and then adds, “I fell asleep during that part.”

“That’s Hath’s version of coffee,” Kyungsoo laughs. “Everyone drinks it, even though it’s disgusting the first time. Good for your HP though.” He nods towards the bar over Chanyeol’s shoulder. It’s a little fuller than it had been earlier. “Bad luck about the name thing, though. You’re stuck with this one forever now, you’re going to be correcting people all game.”

“Oh, great.” Chanyeol takes another sip and shudders as it coats his tongue. “What do you mean, _all game?_ ” 

Kyungsoo shrugs, avoiding his gaze as he sits down opposite him. “For as long as you’re in the game,” he says vaguely. 

“What do you mean, _in the game?_ ” Chanyeol’s heart thuds. Until now, most of him hadn’t _believed_ what Kyungsoo had said, and he was sort of quashing the part that did, because it just _couldn’t_ be true. It’s impossible. Utterly insane. And yet Kyungsoo looks so serious. “Can you please explain everything now?”

Kyungsoo sighs for the millionth time, sipping from his own cup before putting it down and tapping his fingertips against his tabletop. “Some things,” he hedges. “What do you want to know?”

“Um.” Chanyeol blinks. “Everything? What I’m doing here? How? Why? Where is _here?_ How do I get out?”

Kyungsoo’s throat bobs, and his fingertips tap harder. “I’ll tell you what I can.” He takes a deep breath. “ _Here_ is Paran. A futuristic, technologically advanced alternate world created for the video game by the same name. You are in the game. Literally.” Kyungsoo holds up a hand as Chanyeol begins to speak, silencing him. “Before you ask, no, we don’t know how or why. All we know if that you’re here, and you’re the hero.”

“The hero of what?” Chanyeol asks desperately. The more Kyungsoo speaks, the more difficult it becomes to completely write everything he says off as an impossibility. He almost wants to tell Kyungsoo to shut up, just _shut up_ so Chanyeol can take a moment to figure out how he _feels_ , but he also doesn’t want to let that happen, because chances are, the feeling won’t be good.

Kyungsoo speaks before Chanyeol can retract his question. “You’ve been assigned as a hero. You’re supposed to win the game. Here, this is what the cutscene would have told you.” He takes a deep breath, as if preparing for a speech. “A couple years ago, in-game, there was a big war between three different political parties in Paran. Back then we called them the ruling party, who were in power at the time, the opposing party, who _wanted_ to be in power, and the double-opposing party, who hated them both. Alternatively, we call them by their established colours: blue, black, and red.” 

Kyungsoo carefully folds his hands on the table, jaw clenched. “The ruling party was pretty awful. They didn’t even try to hide how awful they were. You know, cruel and corrupt and stuff. The opposing party are the ones you’re most interested in. They were violently and heroically against the ruling party, and they declared they were going to help restore order to the country and all that shit. People were impressed by them, mostly because they talked big and they fought big. They were backed by a legion of bots, with the help of MAISS—that’s M-A-I-S-S.” Kyungsoo pronounces it like _mace_ , which makes it sound even more intimidating. “It stands for _Master Artificial Intelligence Support System._ It’s the big machine that controls all the smaller bots. Very advanced, very dangerous.”

“Okay,” Chanyeol says, trying to wrap his head around it. He doesn’t mind talking politics. He’s never enjoyed it before, but it’s oddly distracting from the other issues at hand. “Who’s the third party?”

“Those are the double-opposing, the rebels. A small group that thought the ruling party was terrible, which they were, and the opposing party was power-hungry and dangerous, which, quite frankly, they were.”

“So which side were you on?” Chanyeol asks. 

Kyungsoo gives him a bland stare. “You’ll figure it out,” he says drily.

“Well, okay. How did the war go?”

Kyungsoo sighs, draining the rest of the liquid in his cup. “The rebels didn’t stand a chance,” he admits. “There wasn’t enough open support, and they didn’t have much for artillery. They put up a good fight, but they were crushed pretty quickly.” He shrugs, as if to say _It happens._ “The other two parties were pretty evenly matched. Both had a lot of men, and a lot of guns and missiles and bombs and stuff. Both were ruthless. But the opposing party had MAISS, so eventually they won the war.” He knocks over his empty cup with a flick of his fingers; Chanyeol braces himself for impact, but it doesn’t shatter. 

“And so we have the opposing party now in power. Their leader, pointedly nameless, became dictator of Paran. He continues to use MAISS extensively, keeping his people in order. That’s how he excuses it, the violence and everything. Bringing order back to a devastated country. Tons of people eat that shit up.” Kyungsoo snorts. 

“So he’s not a nice guy?” Chanyeol asks, cracking a half smile. It feels like he’s talking about a fictional war in a fictional book, apart from the throbbing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. He tries to ignore it.

Kyungsoo laughs hollowly. “No. He’s not. And neither is his robot friend. They’ve got a pretty strict regime going on around here, as you’ll figure out pretty soon.” 

Chanyeol rubs his thumbs over the material covering his legs nervously for a few moments, trying to quash a sudden wave of panic. He holds his breath for a second, then lets it out slowly. _You’re okay,_ he tells himself silently. It’s a lie, but he chants it to himself anyway, imagining his mother’s voice after he woke up from a childhood nightmare. _You’re okay. It wasn’t real._ None of his nightmares had been like this. “You know, you seem pretty self-aware,” he says, pitching his voice higher to hide his growing anxiety, but almost undoubtedly failing. 

Kyungsoo looks up at him, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

Chanyeol shrugs, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He tastes blood. “For a game character, I mean. Are all of you this, you know, sentient? Also, you keep referring to stuff as _in the game._ That’s really perceptive, you know? I’m impressed.”

Kyungsoo’s face darkens. “Don’t talk about stuff like you know anything,” he says, voice sharp.

Immediately, Chanyeol holds up his palms in defense. His heart pounds. “I’m just trying to understand some things, okay? If you hadn’t realized, I’ve apparently just been sucked into a freaking _video game._ I’m allowed to ask questions!”

Kyungsoo taps his fingertips again, and for a moment, he really looks sympathetic. “Well I’m not allowed to answer all of them,” he says. “And you ask a lot more questions than a lot of the other heroes.”

Chanyeol freezes, and for a second he can barely speak. “There have been others?”

His reaction makes Kyungsoo hesitate, like he maybe shouldn’t have said that. But then he nods. “There was a reason why the game was recalled,” he says carefully. 

Chanyeol blinks. He’d known the game was recalled—he’d been really surprised to find a copy lurking in the depths of a pawn shop he frequented—but he’d never been told _why._ You’d think he would know if it was because people were getting _sucked in._ “So I’m, what. Your millionth hero?”

“I wouldn’t say millionth,” Kyungsoo mutters. “More like...twenty-eighth. I don’t think it happens to everyone.” 

“Wow,” Chanyeol breathes. Honestly, his mind is still spinning, trying to comprehend everything that’s going on, trying to take in the fact that he might _actually_ be a character in a video game. It’s so absolutely insane that at the moment, he’s kind of just in shock. He’s just absorbing information, filing it away to deal with later. “So what happened to them? The other…twenty-seven heroes?”

Kyungsoo looks distinctly uncomfortable. “Well, they did what heroes do. They tried to save the world. And they failed.”

“The game doesn’t have checkpoints,” Chanyeol says. It’s one thing he _does_ know about it, having gone into it otherwise completely blind. “You can save it and come back, but if you die, you start over. They all died?”

Kyungsoo nods slowly. “It’s a hard game,” he says quietly. 

“So then what? Did they—did they die in real life?” Chanyeol’s heart gives a terrified thump. “If I’m here, in this game, if I’m _actually_ inside this game, do I also exist in real life, simultaneously?”

But Kyungsoo just shrugs. “No one knows,” he admits. “It’s impossible to know. But, you know. It’s best not to risk it.”

“So how do I get out?” Chanyeol asks, trying to breathe steadily. It wouldn’t help to start hyperventilating, but he feels like he just might. It’s starting to feel too real. It can’t be real. But something deep down inside of him already knows that it is. 

“Well, the most plausible answer would be to beat the game, wouldn’t it?” Kyungsoo says vaguely, tapping his fingers again. “That’s the point of the game, isn’t it?”

Chanyeol swallows hard. “Right,” he says. “I’m the new hero. I have to...beat the game.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (HELLO im back with an oooold fic, which i decided deserves to go to college with its friends. but be aware i wrote it like 4-5 years ago. pls be kind to my baby that catapulted me into chansoo fandom)


	2. Chapter 2

Kyungsoo, for the record, does give Chanyeol a bit of time to catch his breath and calm down. They sit in Kyungsoo’s kitchen for a while, and Chanyeol just tries to get his breathing and heart rate under control. It’s a lot to take in at once, this whole hero-in-a-video-game business, and Chanyeol hardly even knows where to begin. 

Eventually, though, Kyungsoo sighs heavily and says, “How old are you?”

“Huh?”

“It’s a simple question, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol blinks. “I’m 23.”

Kyungsoo nods slowly. “Older than the last kid we got,” he mutters. “Older than a lot of them, really. Stand up?”

Chanyeol obeys automatically. “Other heroes have been young?”

“Too young,” Kyungsoo says shortly, and looks Chanyeol up and down. He squirms. “Huh. Pretty tall. And reasonably in shape. Can you flex for me?”

Blushing and embarrassed, Chanyeol does. “I’m 185 centimetres,” he says, just because he feels like he has to say something. 

“To be honest, you’re the most promising hero we’ve had in a long time,” Kyungsoo says, nodding to himself. Chanyeol warms, oddly flattered in the midst of his shock and horror. “And you’re not a child. Not bad.”

Chanyeol tries to imagine being a kid and being in his current situation. The thought makes him sick to his stomach again, so instead he asks, “Why am I wearing this outfit?”

A sudden crooked smile lights up Kyungsoo’s dark face, and it makes Chanyeol feel the tiniest bit better. “Flattering, isn’t it? It’s your starter armour. Every hero gets stuck in it, until you upgrade or something.”

Chanyeol rolls his shoulders, feeling the material stretch over his skin. “I mean, it’s comfortable and all, and I can see why it’s practical, but it’s so…”

“Revealing?” Kyungsoo laughs. “I know. It’s impossible to hide anything in that suit.”

“Fantastic,” Chanyeol groans. 

Kyungsoo stares hard at him for a few more seconds, unnervingly intense, and then he thumps his fist lightly against the tabletop and stands up. “So, hero? Done freaking out?”

“No,” Chanyeol mumbles, running a hand through his hair. 

“You’ll get there. I’ve found it’s better if I just throw you guys into it, rather than letting it sink in. So I guess we should get going.”

Chanyeol scrambles mentally as Kyungsoo begins to move to the door. “Wait! I—I still have so many questions!”

“I’m going with you, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo says, a mixture of dry and placating. “You can ask them as we go. I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to answer them, though. I still have to follow the game script.”

“The script?” Chanyeol trails behind him, fumbling with his ID card when he remembers he has to scan it on his way out the door. “You have to follow a script?”

“Of course I do. This is a video game, not real life.” Kyungsoo doesn’t even look affected by the way the platform jolts as it lowers. “So? What do you want to know?”

“Where are we going?” Chanyeol looks around as they move down the street between tall buildings. “What’s my objective as a hero?”

“You’ll learn more about it as we go,” Kyungsoo says. “Right now, all you’re supposed to know is that the government is bad, and you have to stop them before they do something _very_ bad.”

Chanyeol swallows hard. “What kind of hero only knows that?” 

Kyungsoo chuckles. “The kind that knew, at one point, what was going on, but got attacked at the very beginning of the quest and lost most of his memory.”

“Seriously?” Chanyeol scoffs despite himself. “That’s the storyline? That’s so clichéd.”

“I know, I know. I never said this was a particularly _unique_ video game.” Kyungsoo leads him around a corner, stretching his arms over his head. “Anyway, you’ll figure out more details as the game progresses.”

“So what’s your role?” Chanyeol asks next, looking around at the buildings they pass, the peculiar architecture and the fancy technology lurking around every corner. It’s awe-inspiring, to say the least, but Kyungsoo doesn’t give him a chance to stop and admire it. Honestly, in his current state, Chanyeol doesn’t really want to anyway.

“I’m your volunteer guide,” Kyungsoo tells him. “I know a lot of stuff. You need help on your quest, and I decided I could help you.” 

“How do you know a lot of stuff?” Chanyeol asks. “I mean, I know it was like, programmed into you, but what’s the, uh, backstory or whatever?”

“That,” Kyungsoo says, “is for you to find out. Next question.”

Chanyeol scowls. “What were the little robots that tried to kill me right after I woke up?”

“Ah! A question I can answer. Those are SCABs. They’re all over the place, though we try to keep them out of towns and cities. It stands for Self-Controlled Attack Bots, meaning they’re not controlled by MAISS. They have their own free will, and their own free will is to assault anyone they come into contact with. Except officers and stuff, I guess. They were used as weapons during the war, but they got a little out of hand, apparently, and now the leftover ones just roam wild. The Dictator claims he’s trying to get them under control, but it’s been a few years and nothing much has changed.” Kyungsoo scoffs quietly. 

“Alright, um. Where are we headed right now?” Chanyeol asks. 

“Northwards,” Kyungsoo says simply. “The grasslands stretch on pretty long, but there’s a town between here and the mountains, and we’re going to try to get there as quickly as possible. You’ll be able to better prepare for the quest there, since Hath is pretty tiny and technologically behind and stuff.”

“ _This_ is technologically behind?” Chanyeol looks around in wonder. “But it’s so...amazing.”

Kyungsoo laughs slightly. “Wait until you see a city,” he says, voice laced with amusement. “Here, look. See that symbol above that door?” Kyungsoo nods towards a building to their left. There’s a circle, square and triangle over the door frame. “That means supplies. If you want to stock up on stuff, you go there. There’s going to be one or more in every town or city.” 

“Are we going in there now?” 

Kyungsoo gives a nod. “Yes. There’s nowhere to rest between here and the next town, so unless you want to risk dying before you even get anywhere, I’d suggest you buy some stuff.”

“Oh. Okay.” Chanyeol takes a shaky breath and tries to ignore his morbid choice of words. He takes out his ID card and passes it over the sensor, and the door slides open. Stepping in, he finds himself in a small store lined with bottles of various liquids, containers with pictures of foods on them, packets bearing First Aid crosses, and a thousand different odds and ends. “Hey,” he says distractedly, looking around. “What’s the deal with the ID cards? Everyone scans them, like, everywhere.” 

Kyungsoo hums, nodding to the man behind the counter in greeting. “I was wondering when you’d ask about that. It’s how the government keeps an eye on us way out here, in the outer villages.”

“How so?”

“Like you said, you need to scan your card to go basically anywhere,” Kyungsoo says, scanning the shelves. “It’s all monitored by the government; they know where you are at all times. Every now and then, Ye Olde Dictator sends bots out to track our cards, to read over the data and make sure we’re doing what we’re supposed to be doing. You know, being at work when we’re supposed to be at work, not leaving the house at night too much, being productive, staying on schedule.” He makes a face, mouth twisting in obvious disgust. “It’s mostly used out here in cities farther away from the capital, where they can’t watch us as closely. Anyway, if they find anything suspicious or incriminating, you’re in trouble. Hence the broken doors on a few establishments around here, so you can go in and out freely.”

“The bar from earlier,” Chanyeol murmurs. 

Kyungsoo nods. “They can’t trace us in there. If we get word of bots coming around to track us, they’ll turn that bar into an empty room in five seconds flat. For now, it’s a place to relax for a bit during the day.”

“You’re not working like everyone else, though,” Chanyeol points out. “Won’t you get in trouble?” 

A smirk pulls at the corner of Kyungsoo’s lips as he picks up a bottle of something pale blue and inspects its label. For a young guy with a baby face, he looks surprisingly devilish. “My card’s corrupted,” he says, a little smug. “Special job. It’ll get me through doors, but it won’t send data through to the system. If I go somewhere weird, it won’t send out any red flags. If I get tracked, it’ll show up blank.”

“Huh.” Chanyeol blinks. “Who did that for you?”

“My parents.” Kyungsoo’s free hand hovers over his pocket, where he keeps his card. “Before the war.”

“Why back then already? Didn’t you have a completely different government?”

Kyungsoo hums vaguely. “Preemptive measures. To be honest, your card probably is too.” He follows up the declaration with, “Well? Are you going to buy something?”

Chanyeol starts. “Huh? Oh, yeah. What should I buy?”

“A bag, for one thing. I’d suggest getting the cheapest one for now. Then get some HP boosters, stuff that’ll keep you alive in emergencies. Don’t get suckered into buying anything else, like stats boosters. You don’t need them yet, they’re a waste of money.”

“Okay,” Chanyeol says dumbly, and walks around the store. When he takes too long to choose a bag, Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and walks over to help, picking up a simple black backpack to match his outfit. Then they pick out three little flasks of multicoloured liquid, each marked with a 50, and they bring it all up to the counter, where the shopkeeper stands watching them with eyes that are either bored or blank. 

Chanyeol’s Electronic Currency Device is a complete mystery to him. Kyungsoo has to walk him through paying for his goods step by step, from turning the thing on to connecting it to the shopkeeper’s to transferring the money. At long last, though, they’re walking out of the store with their new purchases in hand, and Chanyeol feels a little bit better. It’s nice, feeling like he’s accomplished something. It makes him slightly less panicky. 

“Alright,” Kyungsoo says as they step back onto the street. “Now that that’s done, we can get moving. The day’s not getting any younger.”

They leave Hath behind a few minutes later, striding away from the peculiar buildings and straight into the grasslands in the general direction of the mountainous silhouette. They plunge headfirst into the vast unknown, down an invisible path through acres of flat plains, and Chanyeol just trails along behind his guide, at this point feeling mostly numb and overwhelmed. Words and phrases keep turning over in his head, parts of Kyungsoo’s explanations, his blunt _All we know is that you’re here, and that you’re the hero._ But the sickening pain in Chanyeol’s chest has dulled to an uncomfortable throb, and his panic has turned to dazed disbelief.

“Talk to me,” Kyungsoo says suddenly from in front of him. Chanyeol looks up and sees the smaller man glancing back at him, round eyes blinking slowly. 

“What?” Chanyeol says, nearly tripping over a tangle of grass. 

“It’s bad for you to think too much. This is not a situation where thinking will help anything. Start talking. Say anything. Sing if you have to.” He runs his fingers through his wild red hair as he turns to face forwards again. 

Chanyeol blinks at the back of Kyungsoo’s head, rubbing his upper arms like he’s cold, even though he’s not. Maybe that’s an effect of his shock, too. “Do you style your hair like that?”

Kyungsoo laughs and turns to look at him, steps sure and unfaltering. “What?”

“I always wonder, you know, characters in video games and movies and stuff always have perfectly styled hair. Usually the excuse is, like, they’re not real, but. You kind of are?” Chanyeol scratches his head. “Do you style your hair up every day or…?”

Kyungsoo laughs again and shakes his head. “Game logic is messed up,” he concedes. “I typically wake up with it like this. Sometimes it’s a little weird and I have to mess around with it.”

Chanyeol hums, looking Kyungsoo up and down. He’s still wearing that longish white tunic thing, with its mandarin collar and tight sleeves, and underneath he has on skin-tight black pants and what looks like a simpler version of Chanyeol’s black boots. “Do you wear those clothes every day?”

“Yes.” Kyungsoo pulls a wry smile. “I don’t have a wardrobe of any sort, it’s just this.”

Chanyeol chuckles. “Do you ever get sick of it?”

Kyungsoo shrugs, stretching. He acts like someone who hasn’t done any physical activity in months. “It saves me the trouble of picking out an outfit every day. And they’re comfortable clothes, so I can’t complain.”

“I mean I _do_ usually try to re-wear clothes as many times as I think I can get away with it,” Chanyeol relents. 

He finds he likes the sound of Kyungsoo’s soft laughter. It’s soothing, and normal. 

“Thanks for being nice to me,” he says before he can think it through, and then ducks his head embarrassedly. “I mean, just. You seem like a kind of intimidating guy. So thanks for...taking it easy on me, and stuff.”

Kyungsoo walks a few more steps in silence, facing forwards again. “It’s my job,” he says eventually. “It’s in everyone’s best interest for our heroes to not be having panic attacks at the very beginning of their quest.” 

“Still.” Chanyeol looks at his hands as he twists them in front of him. He wants to say more, he wants to say that it’s just really nice to have someone so steady and firm in the midst of all the chaos currently going on in Chanyeol life, he wants to tell Kyungsoo that he appreciates how reassuring his down-to-earth personality is, but honestly, Chanyeol barely knows this guy, and how is he supposed to say all that? All he gets out is, “I’m...grateful.”

Kyungsoo glances back at him briefly. “You’re welcome,” he says softly. 

A familiar metallic screech rends the air, and Chanyeol’s heart skips a beat. “Fuck, _seriously_?” he says loudly, freezing in place. 

Kyungsoo is at his side in a second, scrabbling at his arm as he looks around. “Sword,” he says frantically. “Sword, Chanyeol, _now._ ” 

“Right, _shit_ , oh my god—” Chanyeol unclips his sword and presses the button on the hilt, activating the blade in an instant. He can see the grass rustling ahead, and his chest squeezes in fear. “What do I do?” he asks breathlessly. 

“You kill them!” Kyungsoo says, and his voice sounds far away. Chanyeol turns to look for him, and only glimpses him backing away for a split second before his guide screeches, “ _Face the robots, Chanyeol!_ ” 

Breath stuttering, Chanyeol’s neck snaps around, and three robots as big as medium-sized dogs burst out of the grass. Their eyes glow a sickly green, and their spiky legs move a little more slowly than the smaller ones Chanyeol met earlier, but they have extendable arms that stab out at a sickening speed, tipped with metallic hooked talons. “Oh god,” he groans, trembling as he holds his sword ready. 

“They’re only Level 2 SCABs,” Kyungsoo calls to him. “Four hits each will kill them. They’re not that agile, once they build up momentum it’s hard for them to stop. Avoid their arms.”

Chanyeol scoffs, wiping sweat from his brow as the bots scramble towards him, clicking and screeching. “ _Avoid their arms._ No shit!”

“Just do it, Chanyeol!” Kyungsoo calls, and then they’re upon him. 

It’s unfortunate that Chanyeol himself isn’t incredibly agile. He’s strong enough, his stamina is half-decent, but he’s too big and too gangly to move that quickly. Still, when there’s a terrifying robot creature lunging at him with scary, hooked arms, fear and adrenaline are enough to get him out of the way, if only in the nick of time. Swinging wildly, he manages to hit it as it rushes past. Another leaps at him, and Chanyeol twists away, heel digging into soft dirt as his sword switches hands and strikes it on the leg. Their high-pitched screams make Chanyeol’s temples throb. 

“Behind you, Chanyeol!” Kyungsoo yells, but Chanyeol doesn’t react fast enough—an intense burning spreads just under the back of his left knee. 

Swearing loudly, he pivots and lashes out, getting in two hits to the same SCAB. The second tries to clamber over top of it, and Chanyeol brings his sword down hard on top of it before turning quickly to keep an eye on the third. He’s just in time to scramble out of the way of its charge, and something hot and painful nicks the side of his leg. 

“Don’t worry about hitting them hard, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo warns him from wherever he’s retreated. “A hit is a hit. You only need four per bot.”

Chanyeol doesn’t answer, gasping for breath more from fear than exertion. He swings his sword and hits what he thinks is the second bot, then stabs at the third. The first tears a long gash in his calf, and Chanyeol’s vision blurs. 

One SCAB explodes in a shower of pixels. Chanyeol’s throat constricts, and his movements grow more desperate as he rounds on the other two. He sidesteps out of the way of one, lashes out at the other. Another explosion. His legs are on fire, and his eyes are watering so badly he can barely see the last one as it runs towards him. He doesn’t know how many times he’s already hit it. He can’t risk hoping this hit will be the last. 

Its arm shoots out, and Chanyeol swings at it. The bot screams, and Chanyeol aims between its glowing green eyes. 

It’s all over in a final burst of pixels. Chanyeol collapses to the ground, whimpering, and tries not to look at his lacerated legs. 

“You’re okay,” says a slightly faraway voice, and for a second Chanyeol imagines that it’s his mother beside his bed again. But it’s not, of course. Kyungsoo’s hand is on his arm, and his face is hovering just inside his peripheral. “You’re okay, you’re fine. Look, you still have a third of your HP left.”

Chanyeol turns and blinks at him, feeling a little hazy and a lot like lying down to cry. 

“Okay, a quarter. Your timer’s at 40, you’ll be fine in a bit.”

“I don’t want to be a hero,” Chanyeol says hoarsely, eyes watering with a combination of pain and his shock finally catching up with him. And that’s it; that’s the truth. He doesn’t want to be a hero. He doesn’t want any of this. He wants to wake up or go home or whatever it takes to get away from here. He’s only just started, and he desperately wants it to be over. _Please,_ just let it be over.

“I know you don’t.” Kyungsoo’s voice is surprisingly soft and sympathetic, and Chanyeol takes a shuddering breath. “Unfortunately, you don’t have a choice.” Small fingers squeeze the back of Chanyeol’s neck, and it’s oddly helpful for getting his eyes to focus. “Look, you’re already at 30. Almost there.”

Chanyeol blinks, looking down at his legs. There are cuts all over them, big slashes in the material protecting his skin, but some of them are already beginning to shrink noticeably. Kyungsoo covers the most gruesome one with his hands, as if he can tell that the sight of it makes Chanyeol’s stomach turn. 

“There you go,” Kyungsoo says quietly. “Can you take off your backpack? You’ll need an HP boost after that run-in, in case we come across more before we get to Murus.”

“I feel like I almost died,” Chanyeol groans, closing his eyes as he shrugs off his pack. “How could I almost die this early in the game?”

“SCAB run-ins are randomized,” Kyungsoo tells him solemnly, taking his backpack and opening it up. “The chances of you having to kill three Level 2s this early in the game aren’t that likely.”

“Lucky me,” Chanyeol spits. He takes the flask Kyungsoo hands him, full of something dark blue, and drains it. It’s bitter and it burns down Chanyeol’s esophagus like hard liquor, but the burn spreads across his whole body, and it feels good. He glances at his HP bar to find it crawling back up to three-quarters full. 

“You did well,” Kyungsoo tells him, one part gruff and three parts proud. “And you’re just about healed. Come on, let’s get moving.”

“What, you’re not going to lecture me on my technique?” Chanyeol asks weakly, sliding his backpack on again as he scrambles to his feet. His legs still hurt, but it’s fading, and the tremble in his limbs is receding slowly. 

Kyungsoo hums as he begins to move forward. “You weren’t bad,” he says. “Little finesse, but you got the job done. Try focusing more, making sure you know where each bot is, how many times you’ve hit it. I know you probably weren’t looking, but they have HP bars, too. But they’re even harder to keep track of than the bots themselves when you and they are moving so much.”

“I’ve never been good at fighting,” Chanyeol mutters. “Not even in games.”

“No? Well, you’re going to have to learn.” Kyungsoo shoots him a wry smile. “If it means anything, you did better than most of the heroes I’ve guided.”

Chanyeol offers him a half smile—the most he can muster—in return. “Go me.”


	3. Chapter 3

Chanyeol is, by nature, not an extraordinarily patient person. He gets bored quickly and easily, and he can’t usually work on the same task for more than an hour or two at once. 

Travelling across the grasslands, he quickly discovers, is just about the most monotonous, mind-numbingly boring task he’s ever been given. And that gives him too much time to think, like Kyungsoo had said, and thinking makes him feel like puking or crying. So he tries not to.

“This video game sucks,” he complains after a few hours of nothing to look at but grass and the back of Kyungsoo’s head. “I can’t even, like, relax or anything, because I’m scared robots are going to attack me at any second.”

Kyungsoo hums in front of him. “You should just be happy no more robots _have_ attacked you yet,” he says. “I’m kind of surprised.”

After a little while, Chanyeol looks westwards and sees the outline of a town. He points it out to Kyungsoo eagerly, saying, “What if we stop there? There must be something to do there. Maybe we can nap or something.”

Kyungsoo stops and turns to look at him. “We could,” he says seriously. “If you say you want to, we could totally go there. But before you say anything, consider this: I am your guide, and I told you to go to Murus. Now, what would you like to do?”

Chanyeol hesitates, glancing at the skyline in the distance. Kyungsoo’s gaze is intense, and eventually he breaks and says, “Okay, I’ll follow you.”

“Good choice.” Kyungsoo turns around and starts walking again. “And get used to walking for long stretches of time, it’s the main way of getting around out here.”

Chanyeol grumbles, trailing along behind him. “Why does this country have no public transportation?” he asks grouchily. 

“It does,” Kyungsoo says. “But a) it doesn’t reach this far into the countryside, and b) it’s run by the government, who, you may remember, we’re trying to take down.”

Chanyeol huffs. “Would they recognize me as a hero? Or enemy, or whatever.”

“Would you like to risk it? You’re trying to lie as low as possible, Chanyeol. Try not to blow your cover at the beginning of the game.” 

Chanyeol makes a face at Kyungsoo’s back and keeps walking. “Can we take a break or something?”

Kyungsoo’s pace doesn’t falter. “There is nowhere to rest between here and Murus. We want to get there as quickly as possible, preferably before night falls, because HP falls twice as fast when it’s dark out. Plus, robots and darkness do not go well together.”

Chanyeol jogs a little to catch up, falling into step beside him. “What do you mean, nowhere to rest?”

“If you want to take a nap, you’re just asking to get attacked,” Kyungsoo sniffs. “Who the heck takes a break in the middle of a warzone?”

“Can’t you keep watch or something?” Chanyeol asks, frowning.

“Nope. Doesn’t work that way.” Kyungsoo kicks at a tuft of long grass. “Game rules are weird. There’s a list of things I physically can’t do. One of them is make decisions for you. Another is keep watch while you sleep. If you want to rest, you need to find a safe place to do it, and you’re not going to find one in the middle of the grasslands.” 

“Oh. That sucks.” Chanyeol readjusts his backpack on his shoulders. “This game has annoying rules.”

“If it didn’t, it’d be too easy to win.” Kyungsoo shrugs. “You’ll get used to them.”

They walk in silence for a while longer, and then Chanyeol says, “So, do the rules say you can tell me about your murky past or anything?”

Kyungsoo gives him a sideways glance. “No.”

“Damn.”

 

They run into SCABs twice more before reaching Murus. It’s terrifying each time, but Chanyeol gets by without ever really fearing for his life, once taking down five Level 1s, and the other time killing one Level 1 and a Level 2. Kyungsoo retreats each time, letting him whip out his sword, and gently gets him back on his feet afterwards, urging him to take an HP booster when he needs one. 

It’s awful and stressful and scary, but to Chanyeol’s surprise, a part of him is already getting used to it. He knows better now how to fight them, how to defend himself. He feels more in control of the situation. 

But he’s still badly shaken every time, and despite the fact that his HP can be replenished and he only stays injured for a short amount of time, he only feels barely emotionally stable the whole time. He wants, _needs_ to go to bed, not to feel better physically, but rather to rest his brain, just for a bit. He feels on the brink of a nervous breakdown constantly, and he just wants everything to stop for a little while. 

When he finally sees the outline of the town against the backdrop of the mountains and the orangey-green sunset sky, he nearly cries tears of relief. “Oh, thank god,” he breathes. 

Kyungsoo gives a crooked grin. “There she is,” he says. “Murus, our next stop.”

“Do you have any warnings to give me before we get there?” Chanyeol asks, frowning at the thought. 

Kyungsoo laughs. “Oh, lots. Don’t give more details to strangers than necessary, don’t start fights, don’t get arrested, don’t mess with important people, don’t get in trouble with R-Guards—”

“Whoa, slow down!” Chanyeol says frantically. “R-Guards, what?” 

“They’re the robotic security system around here. In charge of order and discipline, alongside a few human officers. Avoid them. They are strict, and they are ruthless. Life isn’t as laid-back here as it was in Hath.” 

Chanyeol groans. “I hate this country.”

Kyungsoo cracks a wry smile. “We all do,” he says. “That’s why you’re here.” 

 

They approach tall, unforgiving walls a while later, and Chanyeol cranes his neck to look up at them. “What’s with this?” he asks. “It’s so medieval.”

Kyungsoo snorts, eyes fixed on their destination. “The government trying to look impressive,” he says. “Also, a way of keeping out SCABs and rebels.”

“Ahh.” Chanyeol takes note of a change in their course and says, “Why are we going around the long way? Do you know a secret way in?”

“Not exactly.” Kyungsoo fidgets with his ID card in his pocket; an already rare sign of nervousness. “I know a guy.”

They keep walking, around to a small entrance on the west side of the town. The gate looks tiny against the enormous wall, just a small square of slightly darker metal next to a black window. Kyungsoo glances at Chanyeol as they approach and says, “Stay quiet.”

“Can do,” Chanyeol says immediately, distinctly unsettled, and follows along closely behind him. 

Kyungsoo presses a little button next to the window, and it goes clear suddenly, revealing a young man behind a counter. He looks up, silver hair falling across his forehead, and his eyes light up. “Kyungsoo.”

Kyungsoo smiles wryly. “Hello Yifan.”

The gatekeeper stares a second longer, then clears his throat. “Welcome to Murus. What business do you have here?”

“Visiting sick relatives,” Kyungsoo says smoothly. 

“Allegiance?” Yifan asks, brisk and professional. 

“To our leader, now and forever.” Kyungsoo’s voice is completely even as he recites the words, but his lips twist bitterly. He lifts his arm slightly and tugs at his long sleeve, the gesture casual and barely noticeable. Chanyeol leans in to catch a glimpse of red cloth peeking out from underneath, stark against the white. 

Yifan’s eyes flick down, then back up to Kyungsoo’s face. His hands go to a holographic keyboard spread out over his desk and he presses a few buttons. Then, his tone noticeably more relaxed, he says, “This the new guy?”

“Who else,” Kyungsoo says with a hum, handing him his ID card and nudging Chanyeol to do the same. “What do you think?”

Yifan looks Chanyeol up and down as he scans their cards. “Better than most,” he says, then glances at Chanyeol’s card. “Chanyeo?”

Chanyeol groans. “It’s Chanyeol.”

“Idiot misspelled it,” Kyungsoo snickers, though not meanly. Yifan shoots Chanyeol a sympathetic, albeit amused, smile. 

“So you’re our new hero,” Yifan murmurs thoughtfully, quirking a sharp eyebrow. His face is intimidating, but his demeanour is soft; the exact opposite of Kyungsoo. But his eyes are haunted. “I could use a hero myself.”

Chanyeol laughs awkwardly, surprised when Yifan stands and disappears from sight, only to come out through the little door to his station on the other side of the window a second later to stand in front of them. He’s dressed in a white and black uniform, and he’s even taller than Chanyeol, who can’t help but cower. “What’s he doing?” he asks Kyungsoo quietly. 

Kyungsoo laughs. “He’s pretending to frisk you,” he says as Yifan does just that. 

“I turned off the mics, but the cameras are still on,” Yifan says, placing himself strategically between Chanyeol and the gate as he pats down his arms. “If anyone’s watching, they’ll wonder why you’re still at my gate.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol says lamely. 

“Welcome to Murus,” Yifan says again, and this time he sounds like he means it. He clasps Chanyeol’s hand briefly. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.” 

As their hands touch, white words appear over Yifan’s left shoulder, opposite his name and HP bar. _Stats,_ they say. _Combat: 70. Defense: 80. Knowledge: 40. Stealth: 20. Affinity: 0._

Chanyeol blinks. “What’s that?”

“What does it look like?” Kyungsoo intones. 

“Does everyone have stats like that?” Chanyeol asks, reluctantly dropping Yifan’s hand. The words disappear the moment he does. 

“Most people, yeah,” Kyungsoo says. “Come on, Chanyeol, let’s get inside. It’s getting dark.”

“Okay.” Chanyeol blinks at Yifan as he hands back their ID cards. “Nice meeting you.”

Yifan smiles wryly. “Good luck, hero,” he says, and Chanyeol thinks he sounds kind of sad. 

The gates slides open a minute later, and Chanyeol and Kyungsoo walk through silently. 

If Chanyeol thought Hath was impressive, Murus is indescribable. Where Hath had been haphazard and grimy and in need of a few repairs and updates, Murus is sleek and shiny and technologically incredible. Everything gleams or glows, half of the things in sight can fly or float, and Chanyeol can hardly believe he’s _here_ , even if it _is_ technically fictional. For a moment, he just stands and gapes at his surroundings. 

“Don’t be too impressed,” Kyungsoo says drily from beside him. “It gets a lot grittier as you get farther into the city.” 

“But Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol says breathlessly. “That car is _flying._ ” 

“We call them transport pods, actually,” Kyungsoo says, eyeing the silvery-white vehicle hovering nearby. “And that’s a security T-pod, so it’d be a good idea to avoid it unless you want to get arrested for looking at it the wrong way.”

He says it so casually, but the reality of his statement is a slap to Chanyeol’s face, and his awe is replaced by something much colder and darker. Kyungsoo might be exaggerating, but the fact that Chanyeol _could_ get arrested, the fact that he _is_ an enemy of the state and is therefore inherently susceptible to being attacked, hits him with a wave of sickening anxiety. He blanches. 

Kyungsoo glances at him, then tugs on his elbow. “Come on,” he says, voice softer. “We need to find a place to crash so you can rest up for tomorrow.”

Chanyeol nods obediently, swallowing down the bile rising in his throat, and waits for Kyungsoo to start moving, but he doesn’t. He sends his guide a questioning look. 

“You’re in charge now,” Kyungsoo says quietly, offering him a sympathetic smile. “My job was to show you the ropes and take you here. Now you lead.”

“But I don’t want to lead,” Chanyeol says, voice strained. “I don’t know where to go.”

Kyungsoo shrugs. “I don’t make the rules,” he says, and he sounds genuinely apologetic. “You’re looking for a safe place to sleep. They’ll have moon symbols over them; full, half or quarter. How full it is relates to how safe the place is to stay in.”

“There are dangerous hotels?” Chanyeol asks, cringing as his stomach turns. 

“All the hotels here are going to be full moons,” Kyungsoo tells him. “But outside of cities, ‘safe places’ aren’t always that safe.”

“Let’s just go,” Chanyeol mutters, not really wanting to think about that right now. If he’s safe tonight, he just wants to sleep and not think for a little while. Just for five seconds, he doesn’t want to feel terrified for his life and his entire future. 

It’s not that hard to find a hotel in Murus. Chanyeol gapes a little at the city around him as it grows darker and more things light up, but mostly he just looks for the moons Kyungsoo was talking about, and finally he finds one above the door of a tall black building that looks as imposing as it does secure. They scan their ID cards and get inside, and Chanyeol fumbles through paying for a room for two using his ECD. A high-speed lift takes them to the fourteenth floor, and Chanyeol eyes the intimidating door that bears their room number before scanning his room card and watching it slide smoothly into the wall. 

“You literally chose the scariest-looking hotel on this side of Murus,” Kyungsoo laughs, shaking his head as he urges Chanyeol inside. 

“Is that bad?” Chanyeol asks nervously. “You didn’t tell me not to…”

“I can’t give you advice on these kinds of things. But no, it’s fine. Most people wouldn’t choose it because it looks like an evil lair, but it’s perfectly safe. Go in.” He nudges Chanyeol forwards. “You look exhausted.”

Physically, Chanyeol feels fine. He thinks that must be an effect of being a video game character. But he _feels_ exhausted. “Yeah,” he sighs, and walks in. 

The room is pretty small, just four walls with two beds sunk into the floor on opposite sides and a window above them that lets in watery artificial light from outside. There’s not much else inside, and Chanyeol squints. “How much did I pay for this room?” 

Kyungsoo laughs. “You don’t need much in a video game,” he says. “You don’t need a shower or a toilet or a kitchenette or whatever, because you don’t need to bathe or pee or eat. You just need a bed to sleep.” 

Chanyeol scoffs. “This is so weird.”

“Just go to bed, Chanyeol. You’ve had a rough day.”

“I’ll say,” Chanyeol mutters, kneeling to tug at the buckles of his boots and belt. “Hey, this is a weird question, but am I wearing anything underneath this suit?”

Kyungsoo snickers again as he takes off his own boots and prods at one bed with his toe. “You know, you’re not the first hero to ask me that.”

“And?”

“Boxer briefs, if the outfit hasn’t changed or anything. You might want to wear the suit, though. It’s comfortable, it’s temperature-regulating, and to be honest it’s hard to get on and off.”

Chanyeol sighs sadly. “You know what, never mind,” he mutters. “I’m just going to sleep.” He moves towards his bed, and as he does, he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror mounted to the wall. “What the heck,” he says, freezing in place. “What’s with my hair?”

Kyungsoo turns to look at him. “What about it?”

“Why is it this _colour?_ ” Chanyeol lifts a hand to finger a lock of dark greyish-purple hair, frowning in confusion. Apart from that, he looks completely normal—maybe a little more exhausted and miserable than usual—but the hair is definitely throwing him off. 

“Not your usual?” Kyungsoo asks, smiling humorlessly. “That’s normal. Everyone gets new, exciting hair in this game.”

“Yeah?” Chanyeol squints. Who the hell even came up with this colour? His had just been plain old brown in real life. 

“Honestly, if it were up to me, I wouldn’t have this red, either,” Kyungsoo says, tilting his head. 

Chanyeol glances back at him. “No?” He didn’t even know game characters could _have_ hair colour preferences. But Kyungsoo had had an opinion on his clothes, so maybe he shouldn’t be surprised. 

“Nah. But whatever.” He shrugs. 

“Well, it looks good on you,” Chanyeol tells him, half trying to console him a little, and half telling the truth. It does look good on him. 

Kyungsoo snorts. “Thanks, Chanyeol. Your hair looks good on you too. At least the game gods have good taste.”

Chanyeol cracks a halfhearted smile. 

“Anyway, go to sleep,” Kyungsoo says, moving to pull down the blinds. “Tomorrow’s another big day, like every day in this game.” 

Chanyeol bites his lip to keep from making any pitiful sounds. He doesn’t want to spend the whole night stewing in self-pity and despair. He doesn’t want to think about how ridiculous and unfair it is that he’s here. He doesn’t want to consider the fact that people might be looking for him back home, or that his mom might be worrying about him, or that he might _die_ just because he picked up a sketchy game at a pawn shop because it looked cool. 

He just wants to sleep, and forget everything for a little while. So he crawls into bed, watching Kyungsoo turn off the light that seems to emanate from the entire ceiling, and then closes his eyes with a sigh. 

He falls into a deep, dreamless sleep immediately. 

 

When he wakes up again, the room is filled with muted light, partially blocked out by the blinds over the window. Chanyeol feels good, refreshed, but moderately confused for a few minutes, taking a few seconds to remember where he is and what has happened to him in the past day. Rather than a crashing wave of memories and anxiety and despair, the feeling rises up slowly, filling him with a sort of sickly hollowness. He swallows hard and rolls over in his bed. 

Across the room lies Kyungsoo, just a couple steps away on his own bed. He’s facing Chanyeol, his hands curled around the edge of his blanket just under his chin, like a child. Chanyeol stares at him for a few seconds, at his youthful face that looks even younger in sleep, without his dark eyebrows drawn together or his full lips turned down. He’s got that clichéd angelic look, ignoring the wild red hair. Chanyeol suddenly wonders what the game developers were doing, sticking him in this poisonous world. He looks so young, and Chanyeol doesn’t know much about him— _anything_ about him, if he’s being honest—but he can’t imagine what his written-in past must be like for him to have this job, and be so hardened by it. 

The line between real and fictional is already so blurry for Chanyeol, who never would have imagined a game world to be so lifelike, much less for game characters to have actual personalities, and feelings, and thoughts. It messes with his brain more every time he stops to think about it. There’s such a confusing, vague connection between what is free will and what is pure game data here, what’s allowed and what isn’t, what you can do and what you can’t. Kyungsoo, and Yifan for that matter, seem to have minds of their own in every respect, and yet there are rules written into their very beings that don’t let them live freely. Kyungsoo has to be a guide. Yifan has to be a gatekeeper. It’s hard for Chanyeol to wrap his head around it. 

Thinking of Yifan now, as he watches Kyungsoo slumber opposite him, Chanyeol thinks about the numbers he’d seen floating above the former’s shoulder. If everyone has stats like that, does that include Kyungsoo, too? What kind of numbers does he have?

The bad thing about the questionable reality of this game, and Chanyeol’s new _life_ in this game, is that it makes Chanyeol feel like he’s allowed to do just about anything, even though logically he knows that isn’t true. Biting his lip, Chanyeol slides out of his bed and crawls across the floor to Kyungsoo’s side, blinking at his still form for a moment. His body rises and falls with every breath, and he looks so _alive._ But how is that possible? 

Then again, how is _any_ of this possible?

Shaking his head, Chanyeol reaches out to touch a finger to the back of Kyungsoo’s hand. 

Just like yesterday, white words flash above Kyungsoo’s sleeping figure. Chanyeol blinks.

 _Combat: n/a. Defense: n/a. Knowledge: 110. Stealth: 90. Affinity: 10._

Kyungsoo’s eyes snap open, and Chanyeol gasps and snatches his hand back, face heating up. “Uh,” he says. “I, um.”

Kyungsoo snorts, sitting up and letting his blanket fall away. Chanyeol sits back on his heels and ducks his head like a child caught eating forbidden sweets. “You could have done anything while I was asleep, and you chose to feel me up?”

“I was looking at your stats!” Chanyeol says as quickly as possible, voice too loud for their little room. “I wasn’t—”

Kyungsoo laughs. “Chanyeol, relax. I was kidding. Good morning to you too.”

Chanyeol gulps and flushes, mentally berating his dumb curiosity. “I just wanted to see what yours were,” he mumbles. 

“Well you could have just asked.” Kyungsoo yawns and stretches, arms over his head as he arches his back. He runs a hand through his hair to get a few loose strands out of his face. As soft and natural as it looks, it seems to stay in place pretty well. 

“Can you explain them to me?” Chanyeol asks, still embarrassed that he was caught in the act. “I don’t really get the numbers, and like, what they mean…”

Kyungsoo hums. “Give me your hand.” 

“Huh?”

Before he knows it, Kyungsoo’s got Chanyeol’s fingers clasped firmly in his own. His hand is much smaller and softer than Chanyeol’s, who inherited his father’s large, square hands and rough palms. Chanyeol stares at them for a moment, then up at the words floating above Kyungsoo’s shoulder. 

“The numbers go up by 10s, starting at 0 and going to 150,” Kyungsoo says briskly, like he’s explained it a number of times in the past. “It gets harder and harder to increase your levels the higher they get—you need a certain amount of experience points to level up. Combat is how well you can fight. You gain combat points every time you kill something, every time you upgrade your weapons, and every time you get a new, better weapon.”

“Why does yours say ‘n/a’?” Chanyeol asks with a frown. 

“Because I can’t fight. At all. I’m incapable of equipping weapons or attacking anyone. I’m a guide, not a soldier.” Kyungsoo shrugs. “It’s also why I don’t have defense stats or an HP bar. I’m not a killable character.”

“Oh. So you’re invincible?” Chanyeol asks, intrigued. 

“And useless,” Kyungsoo deadpans. “Anyway, defense is pretty self-explanatory. The higher your defense stats, the less HP you’ll lose from a hit. It goes up when you get better armour, when you win fights, and when you get shields.”

“Your knowledge is high,” Chanyeol points out. 

“That’s about all I have going for me. Knowledge is, essentially, how much I know. I know a lot. If you have an intellectual problem—you don’t know where to go, you need to crack a code, something like that—you find the person with the highest knowledge stats that might be able to help you. If your own knowledge is high, either you know the answer yourself, or you have the resources to find out. Increase your knowledge by making connections, listening to people’s stories, etcetera.”

“Alright,” Chanyeol says, nodding along and trying to store away all this new information. His palm is sweaty against Kyungsoo’s. 

“Stealth is how likely you are to get caught when you’re trying not to be. If you have low stealth, you have a greater chance of getting attacked by SCABs, getting caught by R-Guards, getting arrested, stuff like that. If you have high stealth, obviously, not so much.”

“Yours is high.” Chanyeol points to it. 

“That’s the game makers’ excuse for why I never get attacked,” Kyungsoo says drily. “I’m just so stealthy that no one ever sees me.”

“Well, you _are_ pretty unassuming,” Chanyeol offers, and Kyungsoo snorts. 

“Anyway, you can increase your stealth using stats boosters, shields, better armour, through experience—hiding and not getting caught—and through information from certain people.”

“And what’s affinity?” Chanyeol looks at the last stat over Kyungsoo’s shoulder. “Yifan’s was 0.”

“That,” Kyungsoo says, glancing at it, “is how much I like you.”

“Oh.” Chanyeol feels stupid for blushing, but he does feel a little flustered, as well as a little smug. “You like me?”

Kyungsoo looks unimpressed. “10 isn’t a huge number, Chanyeol. Besides, I’ve spent more time with you than Yifan has.”

“Still,” Chanyeol says, and smiles. 

“Affinity increases as you get to know people, do stuff for them, help them, whatever,” Kyungsoo continues, ignoring him. “If people like you, they’re more likely to help you out. So be nice to people. It’s a data-based system, so don’t take it personally.”

“Admit it,” Chanyeol says with a grin. “You like me.”

Kyungsoo scoffs. “Yeah, well, your affinity for me is higher, so.” 

Blinking in surprise, Chanyeol turns to look at his own left shoulder, where his own set of stats are floating. “I have stats?”

“Of course you do.”

 _Combat: 20. Defense: 10. Knowledge: 10. Stealth: 0. Affinity: 20._

“Oh.” Chanyeol can feel himself flushing again, embarrassed. His affinity is as high as his combat, for goodness’ sake. “Yeah, well. You’re my only friend here and you’re keeping me alive, so of course I like you.”

Kyungsoo stares at him for a second, gaze unreadable, and then he says, “Don’t like me, Chanyeol. I have guided 27 heroes before you and all of them have died.”

Chanyeol frowns, disturbed by Kyungsoo’s dark, almost haunted tone. “That’s not your fault, Kyungsoo. You’re just a guide. It’s not your fault they died.”

Kyungsoo sniffs, dropping Chanyeol’s hand suddenly. “Whatever,” he mutters, and moves to stand up. “Get your stuff on, we should leave as early as we can. Lots to do today. It’s a big, ready-to-be-saved world out there.”

Chanyeol groans immediately, moving back to his bed to pick up his boots. “Why can’t it save itself?”

“Because that would make for a really boring-ass game,” Kyungsoo says with a humourless grin. “Get used to it.” 

 

A few minutes later, they step out of the hotel and onto a busy Murus street. “You could really use a weapon upgrade,” Kyungsoo says, stressing the syllables kind of strangely. 

Chanyeol shrugs, looking around and taking in the incredible sights of the city. “Whatever. Maybe later, when I need it more and have more money.”

Kyungsoo blinks at him, then frowns. “I said, _You could really use a weapon upgrade._ ” 

His tone confuses Chanyeol. “I know. And I said, _Maybe later, when I need it more and have more money._ ” 

Kyungsoo sighs frustratedly. “Seriously, Chanyeol, stop and think a second. You are in a _video game._ Your guide, who you just saw has a very high knowledge stat, just suggested you get a weapon upgrade. For a moment, pretend you are playing a game. Which you are. If your guide said that, what would you do?” 

Chanyeol purses his lips. “Go…get a weapon upgrade?”

“Wow, great idea, Chanyeol! Why didn't I think of that?” Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “You’re using game logic here, my friend. Not real life. This is not a matter of ‘when I have the money.’ It’s ‘someone gave me a hint and if I value my life, I should take it.’”

Chanyeol flushes slightly. “Right,” he says, ducking his head. “I’m…yeah. My logical thinking is much better in…games.”

Kyungsoo laughs under his breath. “It’s fine,” he says. “You’re not the first person to have trouble adapting to a completely new way of thinking and reacting.”

“So what do I do?” Chanyeol asks, chewing on the inside of his cheek. At this point, he’s sort of convinced himself that what he’s doing is playing a role-playing simulator, because his brain accepts that excuse and it makes him feel a little better about everything. It’s not that he really _believes_ it, at least not _completely,_ but it’s a soothing thought. It’s disassociating, and it helps him not to lose his mind. “I used most of my money on the hotel room.”

Kyungsoo looks away and shrugs vaguely. “Seems like you’ll have to find someone that’ll either pay you or loan you.”

“Like who?” Chanyeol asks, frowning. Kyungsoo remains silent, and Chanyeol huffs frustratedly. “Kyungsoo, where could I get money from?”

Kyungsoo sighs, like he doesn’t want to say what he’s about to say. Speaking like he’s reciting a script—which, come to think of it, he probably is—he says, “Can you think of anyone that could use your help?” 

Chanyeol stares at him. “Uh…no?” At Kyungsoo’s flat look, he offers, “Yes?” Kyungsoo's eyebrows lift. “I don’t know?”

Kyungsoo groans. “ _Think,_ Chanyeol.”

“I’ve met, like, five people total,” Chanyeol defends. “You, a couple of shop owners, and…” He pauses, and a few offhand words from the previous night filter through his memories. _I could use a hero myself._ “Yifan?”

Kyungsoo shrugs again, but he’s grinning. “You think so?”

Chanyeol feels ridiculously proud of himself at the revelation. “Yes. Yeah. Let’s go talk to him.” 

“Lead the way, hero.”


	4. Chapter 4

It takes a while for Chanyeol to find Yifan’s gate again, because he wasn’t paying attention last night and Kyungsoo insists he’s not allowed to lead him back. He feels a little stupid now, wandering along the wall of the city looking for it and trying to look inconspicuous when he comes across those silvery-white security vehicles or the humanoid robots that man them. 

At one point, he spots a couple of R-Guards confronting a pair of what seem to be beggars on the side of the street, wailing as they’re pushed and shoved, and Kyungsoo nudges him along quickly even as Chanyeol tries to turn back and do something about it. 

“I know I call you _hero_ ,” Kyungsoo says when they’re safely past them, “but sometimes it’s not wise to act like one. Always weigh your pros and cons.”

Chanyeol swallows hard as he quickens his pace, trying to block out the sound of the beggars’ cries. “What would have happened if I’d stopped to help them?”

“You don’t want to know,” Kyungsoo mutters, and gently urges him onwards. 

Finally, they find the gate, and Chanyeol walks up to it uncertainly. He keeps glancing back at Kyungsoo, silently pleading for him to come help, but his guide just shrugs and gestures for him to knock on the window on the inner side of Yifan’s station. 

The window goes transparent, and Yifan’s face lights up when he sees Chanyeol. “Hello, again. Leaving already?”

Chanyeol bites his lip. “Uh…” He glances up at the tiny blinking light above the window, letting him know they’re being watched. “Yes.”

Kyungsoo breathes out a sigh of relief behind him, and Chanyeol knows he said the right thing. 

“Right. IDs?” Yifan’s eyes are brighter than they’d seemed yesterday, more alive. He clearly knows why Chanyeol is really here. 

Yifan scans their cards, and a second later he asks them to step into his cubicle for a moment. 

“I’ve disabled the cameras in here for a couple minutes,” he says quietly, ushering them in. “It’ll be suspicious, but honestly, right now, I don’t really care.”

Chanyeol gulps and nods, unnerved by his eager tone. He suddenly feels like he might be in over his head. “You said, um. You said you could really use a hero, yesterday. And to be honest, I could really use a few bucks—er, money—to upgrade my weapon and stuff. So. Here I am.” He glances at Kyungsoo, who smiles encouragingly and nods. 

“Right. Awesome. Amazing. I’m.” Yifan takes a steadying breath. “I _could_ use a hero. And I’ve definitely got some money to spare if you need it. It’s not like I’m spending it on anyone else anymore.” He glances back at his desk, and Chanyeol spots a picture frame above it, featuring a broadly grinning Yifan next to a beautiful young woman with cascading pink hair. Their hands are clasped between them, standing next to each other under a pretty archway, dressed in what might be wedding clothes. He looks back to Chanyeol. “I need a necklace.”

“What?”

Yifan smiles slightly, sadly, and suddenly there’s a tugging sensation between and behind Chanyeol’s eyes, and his world goes dark. 

And then, just as suddenly, he can see again, but he’s not in Yifan’s gate station anymore. He’s at a lovely outdoor event, and Kyungsoo isn’t there, but Yifan is, standing in front of a small crowd under a familiar archway with the pink-haired woman. Everything sounds muted and faraway, like Chanyeol is hearing it through a glass wall: the cheering of the crowd, the strains of music coming from a live band. Yifan and his (Chanyeol assumes) wife are smiling, looking almost heartbreakingly happy, and Yifan is hanging a gorgeous crystal necklace around the woman’s neck as she beams.

The scene fades suddenly, unexpectedly, and a new one appears, like a movie playing in Chanyeol’s head, except it’s all around him. This new scene is wildly different from the last, loud and chaotic. He’s in a warzone, mines exploding on either side of him, soldiers firing blaster guns, people shouting and screaming in that same muted tone, and it makes Chanyeol begin to panic immediately. He can’t make out any words, but he can easily pick out three different sides: the black, the blue, and the red, all bearing coloured armbands or helmets. The red are sparse, and obviously losing. 

The next scene is much calmer, and Yifan is in it again. He’s being introduced to the very room that Chanyeol had just been in, being shown his seat and the holographic keyboard on his desk. Yifan hangs the picture frame above it. 

In the following scene, Yifan is at his desk, talking to someone at the window. They slip a red card out of their pocket, and Yifan looks hesitant before he lets them through. There’s a sequence of other visitors to Murus, and all of them carry red cards, or red bracelets, or red tattoos. Yifan lets them all in, though nervously, and not without reluctance. 

For good reason, perhaps, because in the next scene, a tall, important-looking man yells at him heatedly, eyes wild, and shakes a red card at him. Yifan ducks his head and trembles. Chanyeol can’t make out most of what the tall man is saying, but he does hear a particularly loud _‘Do I make myself clear?’_ and a _‘You will regret it!”_

The following scenes show several people coming up to the gate, and Yifan sadly shaking his head and sending them away. But the last one is a young man, no older than 20, and he looks positively exhausted, shoulders slumped, face smeared with mud, blood seeping from a cut under his eye. He looks at Yifan pleadingly and tries to cover a scarlet tattoo on his forearm. With tentative hands, Yifan lets him through. 

Chanyeol recoils mentally when the next scene fades into view, and he sees a young woman standing on a small stage, a black bag over her head, and a man ready nearby with a heavy gun. Yifan stands to the left of the stage, watching with nothing short of pure agony in his eyes as someone prods him in the back with the butt of an unfamiliar weapon. The tall man from before faces the crowd, necklace in his hand, and says, “Let this be a warning to those who don’t wish to follow the new order!” The bag is removed from the woman’s head, and Chanyeol is unsurprised but still deeply disturbed to see the long pink locks of Yifan’s wife. The scene zooms in on Yifan’s face, contorted with pain and grief, and a gunshot rings out. 

The scene goes black, and a dark voice says, “Now do your job. I’ll keep this as a gift for my wife; I don’t think you’ll be needing it anymore.”

Chanyeol vision returns slowly, and he feels like vomiting. The whole cutscene had been absolutely horrifying, and he takes a slow, shuddering breath as he tries to banish the sound of the gunshot from his thoughts. His ears continue to ring. “What— I—”

A small hand rests on his back, rubbing up and down soothingly, and Kyungsoo looks up at him with worried eyes. “Are you okay?” he asks gently. 

_“No,”_ Chanyeol says emphatically, stomach turning as his whole body shakes. “What was that—”

“A flashback,” Yifan says, his voice frighteningly soft. He looks as upset as Chanyeol feels, though more contained, more collected. His pain shows through dark eyes. “Do you understand what I need?”

“The.” Chanyeol stops, swallows hard. “The necklace. You want it back.”

Yifan nods slowly. “He took it from me. The only thing I had left of her.”

“Why did he— Who—” Chanyeol can barely even formulate full thoughts, so overcome by grief and horror. He’d always been really sensitive about death, ever since his dad. “I’m sorry, I’m just.” Sucking in a huge breath, he crouches where he stands and tries to get a grip, willing himself to stop shaking. _It’s just a game, Chanyeol,_ he tells himself firmly. _It’s not real._

Kyungsoo hunkers down beside him and squeezes his shoulder. “It’s okay,” he says quietly, like he had back when Chanyeol got attacked by SCABs. “You’re allowed to be upset. It’s normal.”

Four rattling breaths later, Chanyeol finally gathers his wits and stands up. “Okay. Alright. Can you explain the...the situation to me?”

Yifan nods, looking sympathetic. “That man you saw, he’s the mayor of Murus. Instated right after the war ended. Really devoted to his position, you know. All about the New Order.” He snorts humorlessly. “I let one too many desperate rebel survivors through the gates. I couldn’t just let them die out there, you know? The SCAB situation was worse back then. They needed shelter. So I let them through. The mayor didn’t like that.”

“You want me to get the necklace back,” Chanyeol says, wishing his voice would stop trembling like that. 

“Yes. It’s the only reason I’m still here. Believe me, I would not still be here if that necklace wasn’t hanging around the neck of that man’s wife.” Anger flashes in Yifan’s eyes. “But I can’t get into the mayor’s mansion. I’d never get in. They’d recognize me in an instant.” He glances at Chanyeol. “I need someone they’ve never seen before.”

Chanyeol nods uncertainly. “You want me to break in and steal the necklace back.” 

“That’s right. I’ll pay you well. If you’ll do it.”

“Right.” Chanyeol glances at Kyungsoo. “How badly do I need that weapon upgrade?”

Kyungsoo gives him a wry smile. “Let me just say I would _strongly_ suggest it.”

“Right. Okay.” Chanyeol takes a deep breath. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

“Excellent.” Yifan reaches out to clasp Chanyeol’s hand. “This means the world to me.”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol breathes. He can’t get the image of Yifan’s agonized face out of his head. It reminds him so much of his mother’s. 

They step out of the gate station a minute later, and Chanyeol is grateful for the fresher air. He breathes deeply, and realizes his heart is still pounding a little too fast. 

“You okay?” Kyungsoo asks from beside him. “You look a little…”

“I’m fine,” Chanyeol says gruffly. “It’s just…I don’t know, the gunshot and everything, I just. It just triggered me a little. I’ll be fine. I’m fine.”

Kyungsoo continues to look concerned, turning to look at him with furrowed eyebrows. Slowly, he starts to say, “Chanyeol, you know, that’s not his—” He pauses, frowns. “He’s not really—” A frustrated breath slips past his lips. “Never mind. I’ll explain later.”

Chanyeol looks at him in confusion, but Kyungsoo just shakes his head. They’re walking along the streets of Murus aimlessly now, but Chanyeol doesn’t particularly want to stop to make a game plan. “Hey, what were those...those red things? The cards and tattoos and things.”

Kyungsoo hums. “Red was the rebel colour in the war,” he says. “Those who openly agreed with them would wear something red to let other rebels know they were on the same side, you know. It was a secret sort of code.”

“You have one too,” Chanyeol says, and it’s not a question. “You showed it to Yifan when we first got here.”

Kyungsoo hums. “Yes. I do.”

“He still lets rebels in? After all that?”

The laugh that falls from Kyungsoo’s lips is nothing but bitter and disgusted. “Yeah. The mayor doesn’t seem to have considered the fact that once Yifan had nothing left to live for, there’d be nothing stopping him from continuing to do illegal stuff. Sometimes I think Yifan _wants_ them to just kill him.”

Chanyeol swallows down the bile that begins to rise in his throat. “So you guys—rebels—you still do that stuff? Wear red?”

“These days we keep it to wristbands,” Kyungsoo says, rubbing his wrist where his own lies underneath his shirtsleeve. “And we only show them to people in special circumstances. As you can guess, if the wrong people see them, we’re guaranteed a jail sentence, if not an execution.” 

Chanyeol nods slowly, thinking that over. “Is that why your hair is red?” he asks, pointing to his guide’s head. 

Kyungsoo laughs suddenly. “You know what? I’ve never even thought about that. But no, I doubt it. I think it’s just supposed to look badass.”

Chanyeol chuckles slightly. “Anyway...this necklace thing. What am I supposed to do about that whole situation?”

“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?” Kyungsoo looks at him expectantly. “Your first side quest.”

“Well, what should I do first?” Chanyeol asks, stopping to frown at him. “Haven’t you done this, like, 27 times before?”

“24,” Kyungsoo corrects, and Chanyeol doesn’t ask about the others. “And be that as it may, I’m not allowed to tell you anything. I’ve told you already, I can’t make decisions for you. My job is to keep you on task and sometimes give you suggestions.”

“Well, give me a suggestion now,” Chanyeol says desperately. “I have no idea what to do! How am I supposed to rob a mayor’s house?”

Kyungsoo sighs. “My script right now is literally _‘Where should we start?’_ So, take that how you will.”

Chanyeol feels his face crumple. “Well how should I know where to start?” he asks. “I don’t even know where the place is!”

“Well, now, would that not be a place to start?” Kyungsoo asks, eyebrows raised.

“Huh?” It takes several moments for Chanyeol to catch on. “Oh! Finding the place?”

“Hmm,” Kyungsoo says vaguely. 

“Right. Right! Okay. Let’s go...find the mayor’s place.”

“Thatta boy,” Kyungsoo says, and Chanyeol sets off with a new sense of confidence that he’s almost definitely using to hinder his rising anxiety. He can totally do this. It’s a video game, after all. Side quests are made to be completed. 

 

The mansion is, surprisingly, not that hard to find. Maybe it’s just luck, but Chanyeol stumbles across its gated entrance pretty soon after he starts scouring the city for it, and he’s glad, because searching for stuff is not only boring, but also gives him too much time to worry about everything. 

“I won’t usually point out your mistakes, because that’s not my job,” Kyungsoo says as they take in the sight of the big gate and the guards on either side of it. “But sometimes, asking a few extra questions can go a long way.”

“Huh?” Chanyeol looks at him with furrowed brows. 

 

“I’m just saying.” Kyungsoo wrinkles his nose and squints at the mansion before them. 

“Do you mean I would have gotten more information out of Yifan if I’d asked?”

“Maybe.”

Chanyeol groans. “I suck at being a hero.”

“You just… _really_ have to start thinking like a video game character,” Kyungsoo corrects him gently. 

With an enormous sigh, Chanyeol turns back to the task at hand. “Right. So. I need to...get in.”

“I would think so,” Kyungsoo says blandly. 

“Okay. Um. Thinking like a video game character.”

“You can do it. I believe in you.”

Chanyeol gives Kyungsoo a flat look. “You shush unless you’re going to help me.”

“I can’t help you,” Kyungsoo reminds him. 

“Then shush!” Chanyeol sighs, rubs his temples, and watches the gate as an R-Guard approaches in its silvery-white uniform, pauses at the door, and is let in a moment later. “Couldn’t I, I dunno, steal a uniform off a guard and fake my way in?”

Kyungsoo’s succeeding silence is enough to draw Chanyeol’s attention back to him. His guide is staring at him with something like pride. “Not bad, Chanyeol.”

“What?” Chanyeol blinks. “What, was I right?”

Kyungsoo smiles. “Well, you’re definitely not wrong.”

 

As it turns out, getting his hands on a uniform _is_ as hard as expected. Possibly harder. Kyungsoo warns him that killing an R-Guard will attract attention, as they all have tracking devices, so he has to do it somewhere out of the way and obscure. He also has to, you know, _kill_ an R-Guard. And Chanyeol has only ever killed SCABs before this, which was an absolutely terrifying experience that he doesn’t want to relive for as long as possible. 

“It’s not impossible,” Kyungsoo assures him after the sixth time Chanyeol declares it is. “Otherwise it wouldn’t be one of the ways to get into the mansion.”

“There are other ways?” Chanyeol asks. “Tell me!”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “I _can’t._ Come on, Chanyeol, just stick to one method and figure it out. Pick an attack spot. Bam bam bam, kill the guard, divest it of its clothing. Then get yourself inside.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Chanyeol says pathetically. “Take pity on me, Kyungsoo. The guards look so _human._ I can’t kill one!”

“I promise, they’re 100% robotic. They’ll dissolve into pixels when you kill them. Go on! Make me proud!”

Huffing, Chanyeol drags himself up and scouts out a spot to launch his attack. He picks a dark little alleyway just a couple minutes from the mansion and gets his sword out, jabbing lamely at the wall as he avoids this next part. Eventually, Kyungsoo starts causing a ruckus, claiming Chanyeol never will if he doesn’t. “Guards!” he yells, louder than Chanyeol would have expected from someone so small and generally quiet. “Someone’s doing something illegal!” 

Chanyeol doesn’t have time to laugh, because a few seconds later, an R-Guard comes running around the corner, wielding a large blaster gun. Chanyeol freezes up with crippling terror, breath catching in his throat in the face of a threat. But a second later, a burst of something painful hits him in the chest and his HP drops by 5%, and Chanyeol’s fight or flight instinct kicks in. 

With an animalistic noise that is probably partially a cry for help, Chanyeol raises his sword and swings it wildly, hitting the guard solidly in the shoulder. He gets hit again, but the R-Guard has a little HP bar just like him, and it drops steadily as Chanyeol slashes and thrusts. The guard’s only weapon is its gun, which is clearly difficult to use at close range and misses him as much as it hits him, and Chanyeol closes his eyes as he attacks with a desperate ferocity he’s slowly becoming well-acquainted with. It’s the animal inside of him, Chanyeol thinks. His primal self-preservation instincts kicking in. 

As Chanyeol’s HP creeps towards 60%, the guard’s drains to 0, and it collapses into a pile of empty clothing. 

It takes several moments for Chanyeol to catch his breath, one hand on his chest where he got hit by the blaster gun. It aches dully, like someone kicked him in the ribs, but as his _injured_ timer counts down from 20, the pain lessens. With a huge inhale, he straightens and looks back at Kyungsoo, who’s walking up to him to pat his shoulder. 

“How do you feel?” he asks softly. 

“A little shell-shocked,” Chanyeol admits. He’s sweating and shaking, but at least there’s no blood. “A little like a monster.”

“It’s just game data, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo reminds him, his eyes earnest. “Just a string of code.”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol exhales. “Okay. Yeah. I can do this.”

The uniform is tricky to put on, mostly because Chanyeol has to first take off his bodysuit (game rules), and as Kyungsoo had told him last night, that’s not that easy to do. 

“This video game is stupid,” Chanyeol gripes, trying to strip out of skin-tight material without exposing himself overly much. “Why can’t I just equip the uniform and it’s on? And actually, really, why do robots wear uniforms at all? What are they covering up, their robotic dicks? Do they get cold or something?”

Kyungsoo laughs, watching with no lack of amusement. “Yeah, the line between game qualities and real life qualities will never make sense to anyone. As for the robots, I think you’re right about the robotic dicks.”

Snorting, Chanyeol finally manages to get the thing on, and then he picks up the guard’s blaster gun with careful fingers. “Can I use this?” he asks Kyungsoo, looking it over. 

“You can,” Kyungsoo says, “but it’s not that powerful. You saw how slowly it lowered your HP.”

“But it’s long-range,” Chanyeol points out. “It could be useful.”

“It could.” Kyungsoo nods. “Definitely keep it. You might run into trouble in there.”

Chanyeol gulps, slipping it into the holster at his hip, and then fits the R-Guard’s helmet over his head. It’s sleek and simple, reminding him of a motorcycle helmet, and it completes Chanyeol’s transformation. “So?” he says, posing with his hands on his hips. “How do I look?”

“Like a person pretending to be a robot. At least _try_ to look like you’re not human, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol grumbles, dropping his hands to his sides. He walks stiffly, arms swinging in perfect synchronization with his legs. “How’s this?”

“Better. Now go get ‘em, tiger.”

Chanyeol stops suddenly. “Wait. You’re coming with me, right?”

Kyungsoo’s face is slightly darker through his tinted helmet visor, but his gaze is just as effective in making Chanyeol feel dumb for asking. “Do I look like I could pass as a guard to you?”

“Well, no, but…” Chanyeol suddenly feels anxious all over again. “I can’t go without you! I won’t know what to do!”

“Well, considering I’ve never been in there before, neither will I,” Kyungsoo reasons. “Come on, Chanyeol. You have your objective. You have your disguise. You have a _brain._ It’s not impossible. Go get things done.”

Five minutes later, with absolutely no idea what he’s going to do once he gets through those doors, Chanyeol is standing at the gates, flashing the key card he found in the uniform’s pocket over a sensor. He suddenly realizes he doesn’t know if R-Guards can speak, but when he turns around, Kyungsoo is nowhere in sight. He panics. The gates open to let him through. 

With a deep breath and a silent, _This is a video game, Park Chanyeol! You can do it!,_ he walks in. 

There’s a moment of breathless, blood-chilling silence when Chanyeol reaches the door of the mansion and is looked over by the two R-Guards on either side of them, and Chanyeol is _sure_ he’s going to be found out and turned in (or killed on the spot). But then the door opens, just like the gate, and he passes by unharmed, sweating buckets. 

Oddly enough, no one questions Chanyeol as he stalks silently through the mansion’s halls, trying not to breathe too loudly. There are a few other guards walking around, guns at the ready, but they don’t even glance at Chanyeol, and he keeps moving steadily, trying not to pass out from nervousness. He feels like an alarm is going to start shrieking at any second as he pokes his head into rooms and tries to look inconspicuous at the same time, but the mansion remains almost entirely silent, a little eerily so. 

He finds nothing on the first floor, so he creeps up a grand staircase to the second, trying not to get distracted by the lavishness of the house or the fancy technology. He realizes, sort of abruptly, that this is the first time he’s been alone since he woke up in this game. This is the first time Kyungsoo hasn’t been with him at all. It’s very quiet, and lonely, and scary. Even though Kyungsoo can’t always help him, his constant presence is reassuring, and Chanyeol misses it. 

But he has to stay focused on his task. Right. If Kyungsoo were here, he would tell Chanyeol to finish his job so that they can keep moving forward. 

“Necklace,” he whispers to himself, quiet enough that it won’t be heard outside of his helmet. “Wife. Wife’s room? Do women keep jewelry in their bedrooms?”

He has nothing better to go on, so that’s what he looks for, passing by rooms that have windows that display long meeting tables, and offices with desks, and bathrooms, and kitchens, and parlours. He doesn’t think the necklace would be in any of those places, especially not when they’re so poorly guarded. 

_Video game,_ he reminds himself. _Look for somewhere hard to get into?_

He takes a lift up to the top floor, figuring that might be a better guess than the bottom floors. He wanders a bit, finding mostly empty bedrooms that look unused, and then finally comes upon a large door with guards on either side of it. Chanyeol tenses up, approaching slowly, one hand on his blaster gun. The guards don’t move. Chanyeol creeps closer. 

The guards lift their guns suddenly, and Chanyeol freezes, blood running cold. “Denied entry,” intone both guards simultaneously. 

Chanyeol gasps for breath for a second, unable to move with two guns pointing at him threateningly. “I-I, uh.” He swallows hard, tries to think about the situation rationally. _Video game,_ he reminds himself again. _You probably have what you need to get in._ He takes a few deep breaths, then slips out his R-Guard key card and holds it up nervously. 

“Key card valid,” says the guard on the right. “Enter.”

Chanyeol breathes out a heavy sigh of relief. When he steps forward, neither guard moves, and Chanyeol turns the knob and pushes it in. 

The room on the other side is senselessly lush and extravagant. It’s enormous, probably twice the size of Chanyeol’s entire studio apartment, painted in soft pastels and off-whites, with lace and curtains and warm lights everywhere. There’s a king-sized bed against the opposite wall, and a woman with long, inky black hair lounges in it with closed eyes. 

“What is it, guard?” the woman asks suddenly, and Chanyeol nearly jumps out of his skin. He’d assumed she was sleeping, despite the fact that it’s the middle of the afternoon and she’s lying on top of her bed covers, wearing a silky pink dressing robe. 

A flicker of white catches Chanyeol’s panicked gaze, and he realizes there are words floating in front of him, much like there was way back in Hath, when he’d spoken to the bartender. 

_> Remain silent._  
>“The mayor sent me to check on you.”  
>“Put your hands in the air.” 

Chanyeol bites his lip. Are those his only three options? Why doesn’t he get speaking options when he talks to Kyungsoo? He tries to think all three possibilities over quickly, wondering which one will result in the least amount of harm to himself. 

“What is it, guard?” the woman asks again, her voice following the exact same intonation as the first time. 

“The—the mayor sent me to check on you,” he chokes out, cringing at how un-robotic he sounds. She’ll notice for sure. 

But rather than mentioning it, the woman says, “Of course he did. You may tell him I’m wasting away, as usual.”

Chanyeol doesn’t move, waiting for a sign as to what he should do, but then she continues. “Come here, guard. Brush my hair for me.”

Gulping nervously, Chanyeol approaches, figuring it’d be wise to do as she says. The woman sits up and opens her eyes, and Chanyeol thinks she looks surprisingly unhappy. “Here,” she says, handing him a brush. 

Chanyeol doesn’t know much about brushing long hair—neither his mom nor his sister had ever asked him to do it for them—but he expects it to be much harder than it is. _Maybe it’s because the hair isn’t real,_ he muses, sitting on the edge of the mattress and running the brush bristles through long raven locks. He tries not to let his breath rattle nervously, but even if he does, the woman doesn’t seem to notice. She remains still and silent as Chanyeol pulls the brush through her hair, and Chanyeol’s heart slows slightly as his eyes wander. 

He nearly jumps to his feet in shock when he sees a familiar necklace on the nightstand. It’s the right one—that much is obvious—but Chanyeol doesn’t know what to do about it. Should he grab it and run? Should he wait till the woman falls asleep or leaves the room or something?

“You’re not a real guard, are you?” the woman asks, and there’s something about her voice that sounds...forced. But it’s hard to think about that when Chanyeol’s chest is suddenly seizing up with fear.

“I—”

“I know you’re not,” the woman says, as if she doesn’t hear him. “Your hands are too warm.”

Chanyeol closes his eyes tightly and tries to decide what to do. Should he just make a break for it? Should he even bother with the necklace?

“You’re trying to steal something, aren’t you? What is it? You can tell me the truth.”

A whine tries to crawl out of Chanyeol’s throat, uncertain and scared, but he swallows it down. 

_> “The necklace.”_  
>“Nothing. I’m here for a different reason.”  
>“You don’t need to know.”  
>“Anything valuable.” 

Chanyeol cringes at all four options. The last seems stupid, since it’s both a lie _and_ makes him look bad. But saying _nothing_ doesn’t seem much better, considering she said she knows that he’s going to steal something. And the third option sounds like a threat he shouldn’t be making. What might happen if he tells the truth? What might happen if he lies? Will she call the guards in either way? 

“You can tell me the truth,” the woman repeats in her slightly-fake voice. It throws Chanyeol off. 

“The—the necklace,” Chanyeol says finally, holding his breath and reaching for his blaster gun. He really wishes his sword would have fit on his uniform. 

The woman laughs, soft and emotionless. “Take it,” she says. 

Chanyeol blinks. “What?” 

“Have you ever heard of a woman who wants to wear the wedding necklace of someone your husband had killed?” She laughs again. “Take it. Please. I’ve never been interested in gifts given to keep poor widowers in line. I’ll be happy to be rid of it.” 

Chanyeol gapes, then slowly reaches out and picks up the necklace, waiting for her to speak again, for her to change her mind, _something._ But she doesn’t, silent and still facing away from him, and Chanyeol tucks the necklace into his pocket. 

“I appreciate your honesty, guard,” she says as Chanyeol stands up to leave. “It’s an uncommon trait in this day and age.” Chanyeol holds his breath. “Don’t take anything else of mine, and I’ll wait to pull the alarm. Now go.”

Nodding vigorously, Chanyeol mumbles, “Thanks, bye,” and scrambles for the door, speed-walking out and past the guards on either side of it. He practically sprints for the nearest lift and takes it down to the bottom floor.

Just as he steps out, though, a high-pitched alarm sounds, and Chanyeol yelps. He scrambles in what he thinks is the direction of the front door, but instead he runs into a corridor that ends in a large parlour, and he swears as he turns around sharply. At the end of the hall are two R-Guards, guns raised, and Chanyeol whips out his blaster, closes his eyes, and shoots.

The slight kick of the gun and the sound it makes as it fires makes Chanyeol sick to his stomach, but a moment later he feels himself get hit in the shoulder, and he grunts with pain and forces his eyes open. The two guards are approaching quickly, so he takes a deep breath and squeezes the trigger repeatedly, ducking to avoid a few blasts himself as he runs for cover behind a short pillar displaying an ornate vase. From there, he can squat and shoot furiously, breathing ragged, throat closing up. He gets hit again, right in the head, but his helmet blocks most of the blow, and he retaliates with six rapid shots. 

The blaster gun, as Kyungsoo had said, is not that powerful. The guards’ HP bars go down agonizingly slowly, but they don’t run for cover, and Chanyeol just keeps shooting and shooting. His own HP dwindles down to 35%, and Chanyeol gets desperate, shooting wildly and hearing things break nearby. One of the guards goes down, and Chanyeol pulls the trigger of his gun so hard he fears it’ll break. 

With a dull _thud,_ the second guard falls. Chest heaving unevenly, Chanyeol stands and runs, stopping only to pick up both of the blaster guns from the piles of R-Guard clothing. A set of keys fall from a pocket, and Chanyeol scoops them up. Then he bolts for the front entrance.

The front gate is, unsurprisingly, closed, and there are another two guards on the inside, pointing their guns at him. “Fuck!” Chanyeol yells, lifting his gun. It clicks hollowly, and Chanyeol looks at it in a panic. _Recharge,_ it says in angry red letters. “You’ve got to be—”

He gets hit in the stomach and stumbles back, then looks up and drops his blaster quickly, fumbling for one of his new ones. He gets in four shots, then scrambles to get around them, ducking under a couple of blasts to reach the gates. Pulling out his set of keys, he fervently hopes that this is what he’s supposed to be doing and starts trying each one. A blast hits him in the back, and the force of it steals his breath, but the next second the gate clicks open. He all but falls through, the alarm still ringing in his ears, and slams it shut behind him. Then he runs.


	5. Chapter 5

He makes it halfway back to the alley where he left Kyungsoo before he slumps against the closest wall bonelessly, breaths gasping, heart pounding erratically. His fingers clench around the necklace in his pocket, and he gulps in deep breaths of air, yanking off his helmet and trying to calm himself down. No one seems to be chasing him anymore. He needs to get back into his uniform. He needs to get to safety. He needs to— 

“Chanyeol!” Kyungsoo’s voice filters through his jumbled thoughts, and he look up to see his guide jogging up to him. “Chanyeol, are you alright? Did you get it?”

“Oh my god, Soo, that was so terrifying. I do not like side missions. And I do not like guns.” Chanyeol clutches at his chest. He feels like he’s going to throw up, and his HP is at 20%.

“Are you okay? Should we be running away?” Kyungsoo pauses. “Did you just call me ‘Soo’?”

Chanyeol lets out a breathless laugh, some of the tension easing out of his body. “I’m okay,” he says finally. “I got it. We’re good.” He doesn’t mention the nickname; it just sort of slipped out. 

Kyungsoo lets out an enormous sigh of relief. “Good,” he breathes. “Great. Well done, Chanyeol.”

“She just...let me have it,” Chanyeol tells him, feeling slightly dazed in the aftermath. “And then she pulled the alarm, which was obviously terrible, but I got a headstart at least. And she just _gave_ it to me.”

“Yeah? You took that option? Nice.” Kyungsoo reaches for his hand, and Chanyeol is surprised until he realizes Kyungsoo is looking at his stats. “Your knowledge and stealth went up by 10 each. Good work.”

Chanyeol grins proudly, squeezing Kyungsoo’s hand excitedly (and maybe, a little bit, for comfort). “Oh, and I got these keys!” he says, holding them up. “Off a guard I killed. I don’t know if they’ll work for anything outside of the mansion, but…”

“Awesome, Chanyeol. Keep them. They might come in handy. If you have the opportunity to loot something, take it, unless the possible repercussions outweigh the benefits. Okay?” Kyungsoo waits for Chanyeol to nod earnestly. “And good job picking up those extra guns. You can use them or sell them.”

“I’m learning,” Chanyeol says with a wry smile. “Video game mindset.”

“Sad but necessary,” Kyungsoo replies with a shrug. 

Chanyeol takes a deep, steadying breath. “So now what?” he asks, tilting his head at his guide. 

“Now we get your HP back up and your normal clothes back on. And then we get back to Yifan.” 

 

The gatekeeper’s eyes fill with tears when Chanyeol presents him with his wife’s necklace, back in his station. “Thank you,” he says, blinking rapidly as he takes it. “This means a lot to me.”

Kyungsoo pats him on the back sympathetically, and Yifan shoots him a small smile, eyes still on the piece of jewelry in his hands. “I know she wasn’t— I know that it’s not really—” He takes a deep breath, and Kyungsoo hums understandingly, even though Chanyeol is pretty lost. “Anyway, thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Chanyeol says, tilting his head. “What’s the plan now?”

“I’m leaving.” Yifan holds his hand out for Chanyeol’s ECD, and they begin the process of transferring money into Chanyeol’s account. “I’m taking everything I can carry and I’m out of here. Maybe I’ll head over to Hath. Or farther. As far as I can get from here.”

“You can stay at my house in Hath,” Kyungsoo offers. “I’m not using it.”

“Thank you.” Yifan finishes transferring the money and pockets his ECD. “Here, Chanyeol. Take this, too.”

Chanyeol looks in surprise at the small, rectangular device Yifan holds out to him. All it has is a round button in the center. “What is it?”

“You’ll see.”

Taking the device carefully, Chanyeol presses the button with his thumb, and a flat hologram appears above it, hovering. It’s not much bigger than a piece of paper, and it shows the outline of a country. “A map?”

“It’s just a simple one,” Yifan tells him. “Nothing fancy. But you can zoom in and out, and I think it’ll come in handy over the course of your quest.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Chanyeol blinks. “Is there...should I…”

“What?” Kyungsoo asks, eyebrows furrowed. 

“I don’t know. You keep telling me I could have asked more questions to make things easier before, so now I’m trying to think of questions I should maybe be asking.” Chanyeol scratches his head uncertainly. 

Kyungsoo and Yifan both laugh. “At least he’s learning,” Kyungsoo points out. 

“Seriously, Chanyeol, good luck,” Yifan says, smiling wryly. “I really hope you win the game.”

It’s the first time anyone other than Kyungsoo has referred to it as a _game,_ and Chanyeol tries to figure out why that might be important. Before he can, though, Kyungsoo is saying goodbye to Yifan, and Chanyeol is desperately trying to think of any last questions. 

“Any hints for me?” he asks as they walk out. “Any suggestions?”

Yifan laughs. “Don’t die,” he says. “Listen to Kyungsoo. Be brave.”

“I’ll do my best!” Chanyeol calls back, and finally, they walk out, back into the streets of Murus.

The map turns out to be helpful almost immediately, as Chanyeol discovers it can zoom in on Murus and highlight both where he is, and where the closest supplies and weapons shops are. He tracks one down quickly and nervously hands his sword over for an upgrade, forking over the necessary amount of money now that he has it, and is told by the owner that it will be ready to go in a couple hours. He sells his extra blaster gun while he’s at it, keeping a charged one, and even manages to sell his R-Guard uniform. 

Feeling a little naked without his usual weapon, Chanyeol keeps one hand on the handle of his blaster gun as he walks out with Kyungsoo. “So now what?” he asks, as always. 

“Now, we walk around and do whatever we want for a couple hours,” Kyungsoo says airily. “It’s up to you.”

“Aren’t there like, I don’t know, side missions I should be doing or something?”

Kyungsoo shrugs. “I’m sure you could find some,” he says. “But none of them are necessary to win the game.”

“In that case, I’ll pass,” Chanyeol says quickly. “I’ve never been the kind of guy who needs to get to 100% completion, anyway.”

“I hope that doesn’t translate to the bedroom.”

Chanyeol looks at Kyungsoo in shock, and his guide snorts. Chanyeol can’t help but break out into surprised laughter himself. “You’re awful,” he says, shaking his head. “What kind of script did the game developers give you? Sexual innuendos? Seriously? So inappropriate.” 

“Oh, that wasn’t in my script,” Kyungsoo assures him, snickering. “That was just you asking for it. You totally set yourself up for that one.”

“Shut up. I was talking about the game.” He takes a few more steps along the street, then ventures to say, “Speaking of which…”

“Hmm?” Kyungsoo watches a pair of R-Guards walk by distractedly.

“I have a couple questions that have been bothering me.” Chanyeol frowns. “About the game.”

“Oh?” Kyungsoo blinks up at him innocently. 

“But first of all, what was the thing you were going to tell me? After we left Yifan’s station, after the flashback…”

“Oh, right. That.” Kyungsoo rubs at his neck uncertainly. “It was just that, you looked really upset then, so I was going to… Well, you just seemed really torn up about Yifan’s backstory and all, so.”

“Yeah, I.” Chanyeol blinks, tries not to think about it. “It’s just some...personal problems. Lingering PTSD, I guess, from when I was a kid.” 

Kyungsoo looks up at him with concern, but Chanyeol doesn’t really want to talk about it, not right here in the middle of the street. So Kyungsoo goes on. “Yeah, you seemed pretty badly affected, so I guess I was just going to tell you…” He takes a deep breath, like he’s preparing himself for something. “That’s not his real life, you know.”

Chanyeol’s brows furrow. “What? You mean, like, he’s crazy? Or?”

“No, he’s. Well, who isn’t a little crazy, here. But...that’s just his game backstory. That’s not really...his actual life.”

“I don’t understand.” Chanyeol chews on the inside of his cheek. “I mean, I know he’s just a game character, technically, but you guys seem pretty...I don’t know, _real_ , and you guys _feel_ things and stuff, so of course it’s still going to feel real for me.”

“I know, I know, just.” Kyungsoo’s lips twist. “Yifan. He’s not a game character. He’s...as real as you are.”

Chanyeol’s heart skips a beat. “What?”

“I never know how to break this to new guys,” Kyungsoo sighs tiredly, mostly to himself. “Yifan was. Sucked into the game, the same as you were. The only difference is, he got assigned a non-playable character position. So he has no way of getting out.” He rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably. “That whole thing with the wife and the necklace...that’s his game backstory. In real life, he doesn’t have a wife. Just like how in real life, you’re not a hero.”

Chanyeol gapes at him. “Wait— What— People can be sucked into the game as someone other than the hero?”

Kyungsoo smiles humorlessly. “You’re looking at one.” 

For a second, Chanyeol’s mind goes blank, his ears buzzing with white noise as he just. Tries to _process_ that. He stares at Kyungsoo, at his dark eyes and open, honest face. Chanyeol has to stop to take a deep, steadying breath. Murus continues to mill around him like nothing is wrong. With difficulty, he manages, “You— and Yifan— You’re real? Real _people?_ From _real life?_ ” 

“As real as you can get when you’re half game data,” Kyungsoo says. “We’re just like you, except possibly a little more unlucky in a way, if you can believe it.”

“Holy shit,” Chanyeol breathes. “Oh my _god._ Why didn’t you tell me, like, right away?” 

Kyungsoo shrugs, his gaze flickering away from Chanyeol’s. “I don’t like to get too personal with heroes that aren’t going to be around for long.”

Chanyeol swallows thickly. “Okay. Well. Wow. You’re… This is a bit of a heavy blow, sorry.”

“No, I get it.” Kyungsoo shrugs again. “I was one of the first ones here. At least, as far as I know. When I first started meeting other people, _real_ people, it was...pretty crazy for a while. Exciting and scary and sad at the same time.”

Chanyeol looks around at the people walking around them, the citizens on the streets, the shop owners and inner city transportation drivers. “Are they _all_ real people?”

“Oh, god, no.” Kyungsoo shakes his head quickly. “Honestly, you’ll be able to pick out who’s _real_ and who isn’t pretty easily. You’d have picked up on the differences eventually even if I didn’t tell you straight up.”

“The response options,” Chanyeol murmurs. 

Kyungsoo hums. “Yeah, those. You won’t get them with real people. We still have a script we need to follow, to some extent, but we can talk outside of them, too. We’re still, you know, rational. I’m not sure why you don’t get response options with us, but you never will. You just have to guess to get the right responses out of us in return, or we’ll nudge you along.” 

“And you know so much about the real world,” Chanyeol says, wincing. “Wow, I’m such an idiot. You’ve made so many references and things, I just figured…”

Kyungsoo chuckles. “No, it’s normal. Who expects NPCs to be real people in a video game, right?” 

“How did you...how did you end up here? In the game? How many of you are there?”

“I’m not even sure how many of us there are, to be honest with you. Maybe like a dozen? I just know the ones I’ve met.” Kyungsoo smiles wryly. “As for how we got here...same as you. Bought the game. Fell asleep. Woke up here.”

Chanyeol breathes out a slow, shaky breath. “Wow,” he exhales. “So you’re...real.”

“Pretty much,” Kyungsoo corrects. “All of us have in-game backstories now, though, and lives, and that messes things up a little.”

“Yeah?” Chanyeol squints in confusion. 

“Well, you saw Yifan. Believe me, the guy doesn’t have a wife. He has never had a wife. We’re friends at this point, after seeing each other so often; I know him. He’s just your average guy in real life, outside of the game. I think he’s a store manager. Or, well. Was. Mid-20s. Bachelor.” Kyungsoo’s face darkens with something like pain. “But after being in the game so long...the lines start to blur a little. You suddenly have two sets of memories—real life and in-game. He knows he doesn’t have an actual wife that died. And yet he has all these memories of her, of loving her and losing her. And he knows it’s not real, but it still gets to him. He’s forced to relive those memories every single time a new hero comes through here. He watches her die again. If the mission goes through, he gets his necklace back, and he leaves town. And then, if the hero loses, the game resets, and he’s back here, waiting for a new one. Part of him remembers that it happened, but he just has to watch as it happens all over again, over and over. Waiting for someone to win the game.”

Chanyeol swallows down the bile rising in his throat. “That’s awful,” he chokes out.

Kyungsoo shrugs. “At least he doesn’t die,” he says distantly. “But at the same time, he can’t really live, either.”

“I’m so sorry,” Chanyeol says, chest aching. 

“For what?”

“I don’t know. I just—” 

“Don’t be sorry, Chanyeol. All of us are suffering, including you. Maybe especially you. It’s no one’s fault.”

Chanyeol draws in a breath that rattles and tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “This is just… This is really shitty.”

Kyungsoo barks out a laugh. “Yeah. It’s really shitty.” 

Chanyeol looks at him carefully, really _looks_ at him, in light of this new information. This changes so much. “So what happens to you if I win the game?” 

But Kyungsoo just shrugs. “Honestly, we have no idea. No way of knowing. We all like to think we’ll get out, but we really have no clue if that’s true.”

“While I’m in the game, what’s happening to me, you know, in real life? Is time passing? Have I vanished? Will my mom worry?”

“Dunno,” Kyungsoo says simply. “Time’s definitely passing, though. I bought the game pretty soon after it came out, back in 2017.”

“Two years ago,” Chanyeol murmurs. “How did you get assigned as guide? Why not hero?”

“I think it might be because I read a walkthrough before I bought the game,” Kyungsoo says. “But I’m not sure, obviously. Anyway, I think I knew too much to be the hero. So they—whoever _they_ are, the video game gods or whatever—decided I’d be a better fit for guide.”

“So that’s how you can give advice,” Chanyeol says, and Kyungsoo just shrugs. 

“My script—the game data half of me—still dictates what I can and can’t say, do, and all that stuff. It’s maddening, actually, because my sense of self and my _mind_ is still intact, I’m still me, and real, but there’s a part of me that isn’t. I’m not 100% mine. I can’t do the things I want to do. I can’t always control myself. Heroes have a little more freedom. Guides...just guide.”

Chanyeol’s hand twitches, wanting to clasp him on the shoulder, or pull him into a hug. But he refrains. “That sounds hard,” he murmurs, helpless.

Kyungsoo runs a hand through his wild hair and shakes himself. “Anyway,” he says gruffly. “That’s that. Anymore questions?”

“I’m— I don’t know, probably. Not that I can think of right now, though.” Chanyeol blinks, scratching his head.

“I don’t really like to dwell on how depressing life is,” Kyungsoo says, moving away down the street. Chanyeol jogs to catch up with him. “It distracts from the objective, and it’s pointless anyway. It just makes people sad.”

“Right,” Chanyeol says. “Um. I’ll try not to, you know. Be a downer or anything.”

“Focus on the task. We’re still in a video game. Most things, except for a few choice people, still aren’t real. You’re just getting through a game.”

“Right.” Chanyeol nods firmly. “I can do that.”

“Well, you can certainly try,” Kyungsoo murmurs, and lets Chanyeol lead the way into town. 

 

Without any specific objective in mind, Chanyeol ends up wandering around the streets of Murus aimlessly for the entirety of his wait for his weapon upgrade. He’s out of HP boosters, so he buys three more of those, but other than that, he just...drifts. He talks to basically everyone he comes into direct contact with, chatting with store owners and passersby and street beggars, badgering them with questions from the options that appear when he addresses them. Some of the people scare him, but they’re all pretty harmless, as far as he can tell. He keeps a hand on his blaster gun nonetheless, just in case, and gives any and all R-Guards and security T-pods a wide berth. 

“You’re like a curious kid,” Kyungsoo laughs, trailing along behind him as Chanyeol politely turns down a request for a side mission to steal from a store. Too dangerous-sounding. “Trying to find out everything you can about Murus.”

“You’re the one who told me to ask questions,” Chanyeol says, pulling a face at him. “Anyway, they’re not telling me a whole lot. Just like, _Oh, life is so hard here, the government is so mean to me! I lost my house and my job! The mayor’s a bad man!_ ” 

“You’d probably get more helpful information and tips and things if you accepted the missions,” Kyungsoo says pointedly. “What about the one with the woman trying to find her daughter?”

A pang of guilt stabs at Chanyeol’s chest, but he shakes his head vigorously. “No. Nope. I don’t want to be in another situation where I might have to shoot things again. No thank you.”

“You really don’t like shooting things, huh?”

Chanyeol shudders slightly. “So far I’ve only had to shoot robots, so it’s not...unbearable. But I’m scared I’ll have to shoot _people_ if I do too many side missions.” He swallows hard. “Plus I don’t like the sound the guns make. Or the way they feel.”

Kyungsoo stares at him for a few seconds, then says, “You’ll have to get used to it, you know. Eventually.”

“I know.” Chanyeol chews on his lip. “But I’m putting it off.” He veers as speech options pop up in front of him as an old man walks by. “Hello sir. What do you know about the mayor here?”

The old man offers to exchange information with him for a price. Chanyeol says no, thanks. 

When he turns back to Kyungsoo, his guide is watching him with a sort of fond look on his face. It makes Chanyeol feel oddly warm inside, even if Kyungsoo’s back to looking stony and unfeeling a second later. 

Chanyeol collects his upgraded sword—now broader, a bit heavier, and with some silver stripes on the hilt—just as the sky over Murus darkens. “Bedtime?” he asks Kyungsoo hopefully. 

Kyungsoo shrugs, smiling slightly. “Unless you want to venture out into the unknown in the dark.”

“No, I like bedtime,” Chanyeol says immediately. “Let’s go back to the hotel.”

“We could choose a different hotel,” Kyungsoo tells him as they begin to move down the street. 

“No. There is enough strangeness and uncertainty in my life right now. I might as well sleep at the same hotel twice in a row,” Chanyeol announces, and boldly leads the way. 

 

That night, just as Chanyeol closes his eyes to sleep, he feels that strange tugging between his eyes, and he immediately feels dread settle in his stomach. The scene that appears in his mind’s eye is unfamiliar, but at the same time, Chanyeol feels like he should know it. He’s in a dimly lit room, and there’s a man lying in a bed, ragged blanket pulled up to his chin. “Son,” he says, voice weak, and looks right at Chanyeol. “Son, come here.”

Familiar pain grips Chanyeol, almost unbearable, and he mentally begs for it to stop. For the flashback to stop. He doesn’t want to see this one.

But he’s not in control of it, and his mind’s self draws closer to the man on the bed. A haggard, unshaven face looks up at him, and it’s not Chanyeol’s father, it’s _not_ , he hasn’t forgotten _that_ much, but at the same time, he knows it is. He stands at the bedside in silence. 

“Son, I don’t have much time left,” the man says, and coughs weakly. “This sickness has finally bested me. But before I go—” He starts coughing again, and Chanyeol feels like curling up and crying. _Don’t go_ , he begs wordlessly, _don’t go, don’t go, I can’t—_ “Before I go, I need to tell you something.” He draws a shaky breath. “You know what I’ve asked you to do, right? I should have done it myself, all those years ago. But I wanted to keep you safe. And here I am, sending you off. You’ll have to be brave, son. Do it for Paran.”

 _Don’t die, Dad,_ Chanyeol’s mind whimpers, and it’s not his dad, he feels no attachment to this man, but the pain is just as real. _Stop, please, not again._

“I can’t give you a lot of advice apart from what I’ve already told you,” his in-game father says. “You’re all grown up now, you’ll have to trust your instincts. All I can tell you is...strike the beast at its heart, son, not at its head.”

A part of Chanyeol goes _What?_ at that piece of cryptic advice, but the other part fills with terrible, consuming grief as the man before him closes his eyes and takes a deep, shuddering breath. _No,_ Chanyeol chants, wanting to close his eyes as a final slow breath slips through the man’s lips. _No, god, no, please._

The man doesn’t open his eyes, and Chanyeol wakes up shaking, tears streaming down his face. 

“Shit, Chanyeol, are you okay?” Kyungsoo is at his side, kneeling next to his bed, hand on his shoulder. 

Chanyeol can’t reply for a few seconds, trying desperately to get a grip and edge away from the brink of hyperventilation. He sits up and wheezes, trying to wipe away the wetness from his cheeks but finding it just keeps reappearing. Kyungsoo crouches next to him, eyes wide and concerned, but Chanyeol can’t even look at him, focusing on easing the unbearable pain in his chest. _That wasn’t your dad,_ he tells himself, maybe a little harshly. 

_Of course it wasn’t. Your dad died a long time ago. And you sure as hell didn’t watch it happen._

“Chanyeol, look at me. Are you alright? Shit, I forgot you’d see the dad one after your knowledge hit 20, I’m sorry—”

With a deep, shaky breath and closed eyes, Chanyeol finally manages to calm down a little. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, rubbing at his face embarrassedly. “Sorry, I’m just—”

“Chanyeol, it’s fine, you don’t have to apologize for a—for a fucking anxiety attack. God knows it’s not the first one I’ve seen out here.” Kyungsoo keeps one hand on the back of Chanyeol’s neck, squeezing gently, grounding him. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m. I’m fine.” Chanyeol counts his breaths slowly, listening to his own heartbeat. “I’m okay.”

“Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo says gently, tone serious. “I don’t want to...to aggravate you, or anything, or dredge up any bad memories, but I think it’d help if you could tell me what’s triggering you. At least that way I’d be able to help a little more. If I understood what was wrong, I might be able to…”

Chanyeol winces, but nods slowly. “It hasn’t been a problem like this in years,” he says gruffly, running a hand through his hair. “We got family counselling, and it was a long time ago, but I guess I’ve just been under a lot of stress and it’s bringing up old problems and just…”

“What was a long time ago?” Kyungsoo asks quietly. “What happened?”

Chanyeol has to take a long, stabilizing breath before he can begin. “My dad was in the military,” he says. “Since I was born. He was gone pretty often for work, but he was like my hero.” He swallows thickly. “He...he died when I was 8. It was really sudden and unexpected.” His whole body starts to shake again.

“I’m sorry,” Kyungsoo says softly, squeezing the back of his neck again. 

“It was...really hard on my family, you know? My mom was absolutely shattered, and I had a lot of issues for a while after that. Posttraumatic stress and all that. I was really easily triggered, by basically anything death- or war-related. Violence, guns, blood, sometimes even just like...loud shouting. I got better, obviously, I went to therapy and stuff for a few years, but. Stuff like that lingers.” He chuckles humorlessly, shaking his head. “This game has been an absolute nightmare for me.”

“God, Chanyeol, I’m so sorry,” Kyungsoo breathes, eyes wide. “I’ve been making you do all this stuff, I didn’t know—”

Chanyeol shakes his head quickly, silencing him. “No, Kyungsoo, you’re fine. You’ve been...you’ve been great. I have to deal with this stuff, so...you’ve already helped me a lot, even if you haven’t really realized it.”

“The blaster guns,” Kyungsoo groans, shaking his head. “And Yifan’s flashback, and killing the R-Guard, and just...I’m so sorry.”

“Shush. It’s...well, it’s not _fine_ , I obviously keep having meltdowns, but...I’ll be fine.” Chanyeol scrubs at his face and tries to square his shoulders. He doesn’t entirely succeed. “Anyway, this last dream...that one was hard. Just because...well, I never saw my dad’s body, but it reminded me too much of the nightmares I had for years after he died. Of him trying to tell me something, and of him dying right in front of me, and stuff.” He sucks in another steadying breath. “But I’m fine. Really. I’ll be alright.”

“You’re a bad liar.” Kyungsoo smiles wryly. “Do you want to get up?”

“Not really.” Chanyeol attempts a small smile in return.

Kyungsoo hums understandingly and folds his legs under him on the floor next to Chanyeol’s bed, settling down. “Why’d you pick this game?” he asks after a few moments of silence. “I mean, if you don’t like violence, and stuff…”

“Honestly, it hasn’t been bad like this in ages,” Chanyeol tells him, frowning. He picks at the blanket over his lap. “I can handle most stuff no problem nowadays. I still try to stay away from games and shows and movies that are explicitly about wars and killing people, but like, killing virtual robots? No big deal. Even the backstory, with the dad dying and all, that usually wouldn’t bother me too much. I might have a little pang of sadness, but it wouldn’t have triggered a full-out meltdown.” He shrugs, smiling embarrassedly. “I think it’s just because, well, this is obviously way more realistic than I’d been expecting when I bought it, and I have to kill things with my own hands and watch things with my own eyes, and I’m already under a lot of stress, so it’s affecting me more…”

“Yeah, I get it,” Kyungsoo says softly.

“As for why I bought this game,” Chanyeol adds, straightening up, “it’s because it was super cheap at a pawn shop, and it looked cool, and I’d heard it was recalled so I wanted to see what was up with it.”

“The cruel price of curiosity,” Kyungsoo deadpans, lips thinning out. 

Chanyeol looks around their little room and stretches, trying to clear his mind after the dream. “So, Kyungsoo, tell me about yourself,” he says. “Your real self, I mean. The self you’re allowed to tell me about.”

Kyungsoo’s face is surprisingly dark and shuttered when Chanyeol glances at him. “That’s probably not a good idea.”

“What? Why not?” 

“Because,” Kyungsoo says. “I try not to get attached to heroes. I don’t mean to be morbid, Chanyeol, but it’s not fun watching friends die.”

Chanyeol blanches, stomach turning. “Oh. Right. Sorry.”

Kyungsoo sighs, scratching his head and looking away from him. “Not that there’s much to tell anyway. I studied Psychology at Dongguk. I liked video games. I had an older brother.”

“ _Have,_ ” Chanyeol reminds him, frowning. “Is he single?”

Kyungsoo gives him an odd look. “He was last I saw. Why?”

Chanyeol shrugs. “I have an older sister. I was thinking we could hook them up when we get out of here.”

Kyungsoo snorts quietly, cracking a half smile. “I appreciate your optimism,” he says. “But don’t worry, I won’t hold you to that.”

“I’m an internet technician,” Chanyeol tells him instead of making another lame attempt at cheering him up. “I, you know, install network systems and troubleshoot problems and all that fun stuff. Exciting, right?”

“Very,” Kyungsoo says with a hint of amusement. “Really helpful work experience for being a video game hero.”

Chanyeol laughs. “Right? I don’t mind the job, though. And it pays the bills.”

“I would have graduated by now,” Kyungsoo hums. 

“Hey,” Chanyeol says suddenly, “I wonder if In-Game Me is allergic to dogs?”

“What?”

“I’m super allergic to dogs,” Chanyeol tells him. “But I really love them. I wonder if I could adopt one in the game without consequences.”

Kyungsoo laughs, and Chanyeol grins triumphantly. “I’m not sure if you’ll ever get the chance to find out.”

“Ahhh, too bad. I should at least get _one_ good thing out of being stuck in a video game.”

Kyungsoo reaches out to pat him on the shoulder sympathetically, and Chanyeol catches his hand quickly. His guide’s stats flash above his shoulder. _Affinity: 20._ Chanyeol’s chest swells. 

He pretends not to notice that his own stats show _Affinity: 30._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in the original fic, when ksoo is talking about buying the game, he says "i bought it when it first came out, in 2013". I WROTE THIS FIC IN 2015 CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT!! anyway. i changed it but it's still wild.


	6. Chapter 6

They leave Murus through Yifan’s gate, which is now empty without anyone to man it. Chanyeol has to try every single key in the set he stole from the R-Guard in the mayor’s house to open it, but they get through eventually, and then they’re in the grasslands again, staring out at miles upon miles of open plains. 

Just looking at the vast landscape gives Chanyeol anxiety, wondering when something is going to pop out of thin air and try to kill him. Kyungsoo urges him forwards, telling him they better start making progress if they want to reach the next safe spot before sundown. 

They’ve been walking for what feels like thirty minutes or so—time moves so weirdly in this game, Chanyeol can’t seem to wrap his head around it, nor does he have any sort of time-telling device—when Kyungsoo turns to look at him with a very serious face and reaches out his hand. 

“What?” Chanyeol asks, staring at it. 

“Let me check your stats really quick,” Kyungsoo says, like it’s obvious. 

“Oh. Right.” Chanyeol takes his hand gingerly, and Kyungsoo hums. 

“Your combat’s only at 30,” he says. “Which I actually find surprising, considering you upgraded your weapon and killed three R-Guards.”

“30 is pretty good,” Chanyeol objects. “That’s a fifth of the maximum!”

“30 is okay,” Kyungsoo corrects. “30 might keep you alive for another day or two. _Might._ ” 

“Are you saying I have to up my stats?” Chanyeol asks, frowning. “I’ll have to kill things to do that, won’t I?”

Kyungsoo cracks a sympathetic smile. “Yes, Chanyeol. I’m afraid so.”

“I don’t want to do that,” Chanyeol says pathetically. “Killing things is scary.”

“You know what’s scarier? _Dying._ ” Kyungsoo’s face is suddenly very serious. “Look at me, Chanyeol. I have guided 27 heroes before you. Up your stats.”

Chanyeol groans. “But _Kyungsooooooo._ ” 

“Do not whine at me Chanyeol. I am not joking.”

At Kyungsoo’s intense look, dark and full of what might be past horrors, Chanyeol sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “I know,” he says, voice gruff. “I’m sorry for taking it lightly. I just don’t really want to get too serious about the whole...dying thing, you know.”

Kyungsoo is silent for a moment, and then he lets out a short breath. “I know,” he relents. “I get it. But you do have to take it seriously at some point. There are no second chances in this game.”

“I know,” Chanyeol says quietly.

“We both have things we don’t want to think about, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo tells him. “We’re going to have to work together a little bit.”

Chanyeol nods, biting his tongue. “Right. So...upping my stats.”

“Let’s find some robots to kill,” Kyungsoo says, nodding as well. 

Like magic, Kyungsoo’s voice seems to draw SCABs to them. They keep moving through the grasslands, but just after making their agreement, Chanyeol hears the telltale metallic screech of homicidal robots ready to fuck someone up. His heart skips a beat, stomach flip-flopping, and he scrabbles to find his blaster gun. 

They seem to appear out of nowhere, as usual, suddenly materializing out of the grass. Four of them, two with red eyes, two with green. Level 1s and Level 2s. Chanyeol takes aim and fires rapidly. 

“Your blaster is weaker than your sword,” Kyungsoo calls from where he’s retreating behind him. “Four per Level 1, eight per Level 2. Your sword’s been upgraded—one per Level 1, two per Level 2.”

Chanyeol barely hears him, shooting wildly as the spider-like robots charge towards him. “Fuckfuckfuck,” he says under his breath, holstering his gun as they get close and nearly dropping his sword in the process of drawing it. He braces himself for impact. 

The pain of the first SCAB’s solid slash at his shin is almost unbearable. After a full day of only getting hit by gun blasts, he’d nearly forgotten how incredibly searing these kinds of injuries are. Biting his lip so hard it nearly bleeds, he swipes at the first bot, then at the second as it lunges at him. It’s horrifying, how familiar the feeling of being under attack is becoming. He doesn’t even really feel like he’s losing his mind anymore. 

The Level 1s are quick work, and the Level 2s aren’t much more, not with his upgraded sword. But by the end, Chanyeol’s chest is heaving, his legs are bleeding, and he needs to sit down again to rest a bit. “Ow,” he says, keeping his eyes averted from his injuries.

“Hey, look at that,” Kyungsoo says gently, an obvious attempt at being cheerful. “Your combat’s up to 40.”

“Hooray,” Chanyeol says, trying for a weak smile. “Does that mean I can stop trying to up them now?”

Kyungsoo smiles slightly and pats his shoulder. “No,” he says. “Come on, your timer’s almost done. I want your combat up to 50 at least.”

They start moving, with Chanyeol limping and leaning on his guide until his wounds are completely healed, and Kyungsoo slowly says, “You can block attacks, you know.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, I know these SCABs are really small and fast, and therefore almost impossible to block, but I’m just telling you now, mostly because it’s in my script. You have the capability to block attacks. With your sword. You know, parry a few blows.”

“Oh.” Chanyeol squints. “Why is that just in your script now? I mean, not that I could have really used it before, but...still.” 

Kyungsoo hums vaguely. “I guess the gamemakers thought you might need the advice soon,” he says, and that’s it. 

They meet another group of SCABs a while later, four Level 2s. Chanyeol tries blocking a couple of their blows, like Kyungsoo had suggested, but it’s pretty much impossible, with their ridiculously quick arms being so close to the ground. Chanyeol himself takes a few heavy blows, ending up on the ground and killing the last bot from there, eyes tightly shut. 

“Don’t look don’t look,” Kyungsoo says, hunkering beside him the moment the fourth SCAB dissolves into pixels. “It probably feels worse than it is. Counting down from 40…”

“Did my stats go up?” Chanyeol asks weakly, feeling a little faint from pain and adrenaline and the aftereffects of absolute terror. 

Kyungsoo gives a little laugh. “No,” he says. “But your defense should go up anytime now?”

Chanyeol suddenly _really_ hates video games. 

 

Indeed, as Kyungsoo had predicted, Chanyeol’s defense goes up to 20 after the next group of SCABs he runs into—four Level 1s, two Level 2s. Shortly after, he comes across another group, this time with two Level 2s and a Level 3—a yellow-eyed bot the size of a labrador with only two legs but four razor-sharp arms.

“These fights just keep getting harder and harder!” Chanyeol complains loudly, letting Kyungsoo mop cold sweat off his forehead as he pretends he wasn’t just hyperventilating a second earlier. 

“Yeah, well, that’s kind of a good sign,” Kyungsoo says darkly. “It means you’re getting closer to where you want to be going.”

“And where is that, exactly?” Chanyeol asks, peeking at his legs. That’s always where the worst of his wounds are, though he’s starting to get more on his arms as the robots get bigger. He watches in sick fascination as blood sinks into his skin. 

“Towards the mountains,” Kyungsoo says vaguely, gesturing towards the looming silhouette. It’s gotten impressively larger in the span of their trek so far. They don’t seem to be _enormous_ mountains, from what Chanyeol can tell, but he’s also not the hiking type of guy. 

“Are we going to have to climb them?” he asks tentatively. 

“You’ll see,” Kyungsoo says. “There are some things you have to do before then, so focus on the now.”

So Chanyeol does. He focuses on raising his stats, on destroying bots, on not succumbing to anxiety attacks and panic, on rationing out his remaining HP boosters, on not dying. He focuses on his combat technique and how low his blaster gun charge is getting. He focuses on the way Kyungsoo brings him back to reality after every fight, talking him through his recuperation, calming him down. 

He thinks about how many times Kyungsoo has done this before, considering he’s done it a dozen times already for just Chanyeol. It impresses Chanyeol, in a way, how he can muster sympathy and genuine concern after all this time. It impresses him that Kyungsoo hasn’t just given up. 

But then, like Chanyeol, he doesn’t really have the option of just giving up. 

The moment Chanyeol’s combat stat hits 50, Kyungsoo urges him to his feet and points the way. “I suggest this direction,” he says firmly. “Of course, you don’t have to listen to me, but as you may have noticed, I know a bit more than you do.”

“Right, of course,” Chanyeol says, mind still reeling from his latest battle (two Level 3s, three Level 2s, and a mess of lacerations on Chanyeol’s battered body). “I’ll go that way.”

“Keep on the lookout,” Kyungsoo advises, leading him forwards. “You can still run into more SCABs on your way there, and your HP is at 40%. You can’t afford to be caught unawares.”

“Oh, trust me,” Chanyeol says. “I’m not letting my guard down anytime soon.” If he ever gets out of this game, Chanyeol thinks, he’ll be watching his back for weeks. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“That way,” Kyungsoo says vaguely, and points. 

Chanyeol just sighs. 

It takes a while before Chanyeol sees much of anything at all in the grasslands, finally left alone for a bit as they travel in the direction of the mountains and the falling sun, albeit at a slight angle. Kyungsoo seems to have a direct path in mind, though there’s nothing marking it on Chanyeol’s map. 

At some point, Kyungsoo visibly tenses up, and when Chanyeol asks if something is wrong, his guide just waves him away and tells him to pay attention. That’s it. Just _pay attention_. Huffing, Chanyeol continues walking, keeping his eyes peeled for foes. 

When he spots something black in the grass a while later, he draws his blaster gun instinctively, preparing for battle with a hiss of breath. He expects Kyungsoo to retreat as usual, but his guide remains in place, staring. The black thing doesn’t move. 

“Go check it out,” Kyungsoo prompts, nudging him with his elbow. 

“What? No way! It’s probably going to attack me or something.” Chanyeol shudders. “You said I only needed to get my stats up to 50.”

“Chanyeol, what robot have you seen yet that has stayed silent and still when you were this close?” Kyungsoo asks, rolling his eyes. 

“Well this game seems to keep coming up with new ones!” Chanyeol protests, but upon Kyungsoo’s prodding, he creeps closer to see what the thing is. When he does, though, he recoils with shock and horror. “Oh, shit, it’s a body.”

Kyungsoo hums, unaffected. 

“Soo, we should probably get out of here…”

“What? No, Chanyeol, if you see a body, you take everything that body has on it. It’s free looting.”

Chanyeol shudders, heart pounding. “Soo, I can’t go near a...a _dead body._ ” 

“Chanyeol, look at me.” Kyungsoo stares up at him with large, serious eyes. “That is not a person. That was never a person, to be honest. That is a bunch of game data, and it has valuable items on it, so I would strongly, _strongly_ suggest you go get those items off of it.”

It takes a lot of mental preparation, but eventually Chanyeol draws a deep breath, gathers his nerves, and walks towards the body lying face-down in the grass. He very nearly turns around and dives headfirst into an anxiety attack when he prods its shoulder and feels nothing but stiffness, but Kyungsoo gives him some gentle encouragement from the sidelines, and he manages to stay put. He plunges his hand into the backpack it’s wearing first, pulling out a number of HP boosters and a new blaster gun battery. He shows them to Kyungsoo victoriously, then discovers the new blaster gun on the body’s hip, which is a blessing. It means he has a charged gun _and_ an extra battery. 

Then comes the hard part. Taking several steadying breaths, he slides his hands under the stiff arm of the body and heaves it over onto its back, shuddering at the lifelike weight of it. _Pretend it’s a robot,_ he tells himself sternly. _It practically is._

When Kyungsoo suggests he strip the body of its armour, though, and Chanyeol nervously tugs off its helmet, it reveals a human face, albeit plasticky and fake-looking. It nearly makes him sick all over the grass, even if the face doesn’t look all that realistic, and he closes his eyes as he tries to swallow down a rising sense of panic. 

He gets the rest of the armour off—a lightweight breastplate, shinguards, and armguards that conveniently buckle on overtop of Chanyeol’s existing suit—and then backs away as quickly as he can, fighting off shivers. 

“Good haul,” Kyungsoo says loudly, obviously trying to distract him. “Let’s boost your HP, then get that armour on.”

“I have to put it on right away?” Chanyeol asks, wincing as he takes a bright red HP booster flask from him. “It just...came off someone.”

“Yes,” Kyungsoo says, watching Chanyeol drain the flask. “You can never be _too_ protected, Chanyeol.”

“I know,” Chanyeol mumbles. His HP crawls back up to 90%. “Can you help me figure out these buckles? I just tugged until they came off back there.”

The armour is pretty easy to put on, once Kyungsoo shows him how, with buckles similar to the ones on his boots that adjust automatically to fit to his body. Chanyeol does, admittedly, feel much more safe and secure with it all on. Holding his breath, he slides the helmet over his head.  
For a moment after it goes on, everything is muted and tinted, but then something gives a slight _pop_ and his hearing and sight is normal again, like he’s not wearing anything. This world and it’s automated everything…

“Got it?” Kyungsoo asks, peering up at him. “You should be able to see some stuff projected on the visor.”

“Huh?” Chanyeol says, and just as he does, words in white lettering appear in front of his face, to the side and along the bottom of his helmet visor so as not to obstruct his vision. Along the left side, his stats are listed, and the bottom has his HP, as well as an empty injured timer. The top right corner has a compass that declares him facing northwest, and the time to be 8:13. “Oh,” he says. “This is...extremely helpful.” 

“How’s your defense now?” Kyungsoo asks. “Also, if you press the button on the side of your helmet, you’ll be able to look at what items and weapons and stuff you all have.”

Chanyeol presses the button as commanded and is impressed to see all the HP boosters and armour pieces he has on his person listed under _inventory._ “My defense is...40.”

“Excellent,” Kyungsoo says. “That should do you just fine, as long as you don’t panic.”

“Do me just fine for what?” Chanyeol asks, blinking as he presses a different little button and his helmet visor flips up unexpectedly. “Panic about what?”

“Nothing,” Kyungsoo says. “Come on. It’s getting late.”

“8:16,” Chanyeol informs him after he flips his visor back down. “Wow, time moves fast.”

“Don’t pay attention to it,” Kyungsoo advises him. “It’ll mess you up. Because you can fast forward in the game while your character is just travelling, time moves differently when you’re doing different things. Ignore its movement; only check it to see what time it is.”

“Okay,” Chanyeol says, but that doesn’t stop him from watching the numbers flash by distractedly. “Hey, does my voice sound weird coming out of here?”

“It sounds normal,” Kyungsoo tells him, leading him on whatever course he must have planned out in his head, or maybe programmed into it. “Annoying.”

Chanyeol laughs. “You’re getting so fond of me, Soo.”

Kyungsoo glances back at him, face dark. “I try not to get fond of heroes, Chanyeol. For a reason.”

That shuts Chanyeol up. He flips his visor up so that Kyungsoo can see his face. “Sorry,” he mumbles. 

Kyungsoo turns back to face the mountains. “Keep your guard up,” he says. “These are dangerous parts.”

Chanyeol frowns at the forced tone of his voice, then says, “Was that part of your script?”

“Yes,” is Kyungsoo’s simple reply. 

Chanyeol’s blood runs cold. “Oh. Okay.”

They run into a group of three Level 3 SCABs a couple minutes later, and Chanyeol is suddenly _very_ glad he has this new armour. Not only does the thick, sturdy plating stop some of their swipes at his legs from penetrating to his skin, but he just feels _safer_ inside it, less exposed and vulnerable, even if he can see his HP dropping right in front of his face. The blows to his legs still hurt, though not nearly as much as the ones that catch the parts of him that aren’t covered by armour, but he doesn’t have trouble staying on his feet, and he just feels more confident as he swings his sword ruthlessly at the attacking robots. 

To be entirely honest, Chanyeol is starting to feel more and more like a hero, despite the fact that he still kind of wants to break down and cry every time he sustains an injury or faces something scary. 

After he kills the last SCAB, Chanyeol flips up his visor and grins, partially to pretend he’s not shaking hard enough to rattle his bones. “Look, Soo,” he says, pointing to his HP bar. “I still have 80%. Not bad, right?”

“Not bad,” Kyungsoo agrees, looking forward again. 

Chanyeol follows his gaze. “Hey, is that a house? Are those buildings out there?”

Kyungsoo nods, but he looks tense. It makes Chanyeol nervous. “Yeah. Come on.”

“Are we going to sleep there?” Chanyeol asks. “Is that why we’re hurrying?”

“Less questions, more keeping your guard up, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo says, tone stiff. 

“Fine, fine—” A familiar screech cuts him off. “Shit, more?”

“Get ready,” Kyungsoo warns, and Chanyeol closes his helmet visor quickly. 

It’s only a group of seven Level 1s. Chanyeol isn’t too worried, considering he fought ten of these little bastards first thing after he woke up in this game, but they’re still a hassle to get rid of, when they’re all trying to destroy him at once. When he takes out his blaster gun, though, a small lime green target appears on his visor, helping him aim, and that makes him feel slightly more confident.

They barely get ten steps closer to the buildings in front of them before they run into a group of five Level 2s. “Fuck, _seriously?_ ” Chanyeol yells, having barely recovered from the last attack. “This is ridiculous!”

“Get used to it,” Kyungsoo tells him, and then he’s gone and Chanyeol is on his own. 

It’s just when Chanyeol is working on taking out the last of this group that he hears a loud, angry, mechanical sound from in front of them, and he looks up to see something enormous rising up from the ground, boxy in shape and with large, glowing red eyes. “ _What the—_ ” 

“Boss time!” Kyungsoo yells from behind him, and Chanyeol blanches. 

The new armour and HP boosters. The sudden influx of SCABs. The end of the grasslands. Kyungsoo’s tenseness and insistence that he up his stats and stay attentive. _A level boss._

“ _Fucking—_ ” With a final swing of his sword, Chanyeol kills the last SCAB trying to break his kneecaps and faces the enormous robot swinging long, sharp arms menacingly from 20 metres away. As he watches, a door at the front of the creature’s large body opens, and a Level 3 SCAB scrambles out. “A huge robot that spawns smaller robots? _Seriously?_ ”

“You’re going to have to kill the SCABs to reach the boss, Chanyeol!” Kyungsoo tells him loudly. “And you’re going to have to reach the boss to move on.”

Letting out a colourful string of profanities under his breath, Chanyeol gathers his wits, says a quick prayer, and runs forward to meet the SCAB halfway, swinging his sword wildly. He gets in two hits before a Level 1 is released, and he makes quick work of it after taking out the first. With an estimated five seconds before another is produced, Chanyeol takes a few steps forwards, pulls out his blaster gun, and fires six times in rapid succession. Each one hits the boss on its hulking metallic body, and it makes some angry, pained sounds, but then its door swings open and a pair of Level 2s dart out. The HP bar above it drops by a mere 5%.

“I’m going to die,” Chanyeol tells himself, fumbling to holster his gun and get a good grip on his sword. “I am going to die.”

For some reason, telling himself that with so much conviction sends Chanyeol into a mini panic. With a rush of adrenaline, he destroys the Level 2s in a matter of seconds, taking a few hits in the process, and runs forwards to lessen the distance between himself and the robot boss. He’s still not close enough to hit it with his sword, but he shoots a few more blasts at it, revelling in its wounded shrieks, like sheet metal being rent apart. 

All-consuming fear gets pushed aside to make way for desperation-fuelled bloodlust. Chanyeol checks his HP briefly—55%—before swinging his sword at a trio of Level 1s coming at him, followed closely by a Level 3. Every chance he gets, he takes a few steps closer, cringing at the increasingly loud sounds of the monster that continues sending out SCABs to take him down. 

Honestly, Chanyeol feels sick with terror. If he were to stop for a moment and think about the situation, he would probably throw up or pass out, fear gripping his stomach as he shoots and slashes. But he doesn’t have time to do that—to _think_. There is only one thought in his head right now, and it sure as hell isn’t _I’m scared._ It’s _I don’t want to die._ And that keeps him going, it keeps him moving, fighting, blocking blows from his adversaries, dodging out of the way of charging SCABs, taking out his gun, firing, holstering it, swinging his sword, ducking, checking his HP, getting closer.

And then he’s right in front of it, the huge robot, and Chanyeol sucks in a deep breath and slams his sword into it. 

The bot screeches, and Chanyeol jumps back instinctively as a huge arm swings around and misses him by an inch. Chanyeol’s sword flashes upwards, almost independently of his mind, and clips the edge of it, and it screeches again. A heavy blow knocks Chanyeol off his feet, his chest heaving as his armour takes in most of the shock, and a Level 2 SCAB crawls out of the master bot’s door to lunge at him. It only takes Chanyeol two hits to destroy it, but he’s trying desperately to get to his feet at the same time, and he loses some HP in the process. He’s down to 40%. 

“GET UP, CHANYEOL,” Kyungsoo screams from behind him somewhere. “COME ON.”

Wincing and limping as his _injured_ timer flashes 15, Chanyeol gets to his feet and faces his foe. Angry red eyes glow back at him menacingly, next to an HP bar that’s only half full. With a sound that’s half-groan, half-battlecry, Chanyeol takes a few steps forwards and blocks a swinging arm, then hacks at its gigantic metal body like a hapless woodcutter going at a Giant Redwood with just an axe.

Nevertheless, the bot shrieks with pain, loud enough to make Chanyeol’s ears hurt, and the next time Chanyeol has to leap back to avoid a blow, its HP is down to 35%. 

“ALMOST THERE,” Kyungsoo yells, and Chanyeol wants to wipe the sweat from his brow, but there’s a helmet in the way and besides that, a Level 3 SCAB is charging towards him with razor-sharp arms raised. 

The fight becomes strangely repetitive, in a chaotic, stressful, terrifying sort of way. Hit. Block. Dodge. Hit. Kill something. _Get_ hit. Recover. Check HP. Hit. Hit. Dodge. Block. Kill something. Try not to die. Try to win. 

Chanyeol still has 25% of his HP when he realizes the huge robot before him is about to run out. For the first time, a vein of hope runs through him, lending him a burst of energy, and Chanyeol draws in a deep breath. He figures he needs two more hits. He can hear Kyungsoo cheering him on loud enough to make a lesser man lose his voice. 

Chanyeol swings. Hits. Blocks. Gets hit. Staggers, nearly falls, but manages to stay upright. The bot is smoking now, on its last legs. Chanyeol draws his sword back, keeps one eye on the arm on a direct course for his head, and slams his weapon into it. 

The robot explodes. And not even into a burst of pixels, like Chanyeol is used to. It explodes in a cloud of smoke and fire, and it blasts Chanyeol backwards, knocking him onto the ground and the breath out of his lungs. His world goes black. 

When he can see again, his helmet is off, and Kyungsoo is crouching over him, grinning. “15% HP,” he says, sounding proud. “Not bad, Chanyeol. Not bad at all.”

“I won,” Chanyeol says weakly, sitting up and looking around. His _injured_ timer isn’t flashing anymore, so he assumes he must have been unconscious for at least a minute. There’s a patch of smouldering grass just a few meters away. “Can I go to sleep now?”

Kyungsoo laughs, and to Chanyeol’s surprise, gives him a quick, one-armed hug. “Come on,” he says. “Get up. We need to get into the settlement there.”

Chanyeol coughs, lungs burning, and struggles to his feet. “Is anyone going to kill me in there?”

“No,” Kyungsoo says, then tacks on, “Probably not.”

“You should have just stuck with no,” Chanyeol mutters, leaning on him as they start moving towards the ramshackle buildings just short way in front of them. “Those look...sketchy.”

“That’s because they’re abandoned,” Kyungsoo says, looping an arm around Chanyeol’s waist to hold him steady. “No one’s lived there since the war, and even then, it was a shabby little place. Nowadays, it’s a place for people to rest before tackling the mountains.”

Chanyeol looks over the small, shack-like houses before them, their broken windows and collapsing roofs, and says, “Who the hell would want to rest here?”

“People like us,” Kyungsoo laughs. “People who have a hard time getting into nicer cities.”

They make it to the first house and pass right by it and its lack of four solid walls. Chanyeol has low standards, but not _that_ low. They stumble along the barren, rubble-strewn streets, past other half-standing buildings, until finally Chanyeol spots a little place with a half moon over the crooked door. 

“So that means we could be unsafe?” Chanyeol asks, frowning. 

“Well, yeah. But it’s safer than nothing.” Kyungsoo pushes him towards it. “Let’s get inside, it’s nightfall.”

Chanyeol sighs and obeys, too tired and weary and still recovering from his battle to argue. They push through the door and walk into a dusty, obviously-raided room, then through another broken doorway into what looks like could have once been a bedroom. There’s a double bed in the corner, old and rickety and uncomfortable-looking, but there. 

“Well,” Chanyeol says, unbuckling his armour. “I’m turning in. Don’t wake me up unless I’m about to be attacked.” He takes his deactivated sword with him as he crawls onto the creaky mattress and lies down next to the wall. 

Kyungsoo laughs tiredly. “Sleep well, hero,” he says, and lies down next to him, just a few inches away. “Good work today.”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol mumbles. “You too.”

The shock from the battle only catches up with him ten minutes later, lying there on the bed, and if it takes him half an hour to fall asleep, shaking and gasping and wetting his pillow with hot tears, Kyungsoo doesn’t mention it.


	7. Chapter 7

When Chanyeol awakes, he’s surprised to find that nothing tried to kill him in his sleep, and equally surprised to find his arm thrown protectively over Kyungsoo’s body and his nose just an inch away from red hair. Logically, Chanyeol knows that he’s in a fictional ghost town in a video game where he’d decided to rest after a terrifying and nearly deadly battle with a gigantic robot. But for a few minutes, with everything silent and still, and a sort of warm light coming in through the window, and just the sound of their breathing filling the room, Chanyeol can forget all that. He can pretend for a few seconds that his life, in some small way, is normal. 

Closing his eyes, Chanyeol tries to hold onto the feeling for a moment longer, fingers curling in the front of Kyungsoo’s shirt, feeling the steady _badump, badump, badump_ of his heart and the rise and fall of his chest. It’s weird, but it’s a very tangible, comforting reassurance that he’s alive, and that he’s there. For the past several days, Chanyeol has been right on the brink of meltdown after meltdown, and Kyungsoo has been there nearly constantly, getting him back on his feet, making sure he’s alright. Honestly, without him, Chanyeol doesn’t know where he’d be. And even when he’s not doing anything, even now, when Kyungsoo is asleep, just knowing that he’s not alone is an enormous comfort for Chanyeol. 

With a deep breath, Chanyeol tips his head forward to press it to the nape of Kyungsoo’s neck, soaking in the warmth of his skin. Like that, he can feel the exact moment Kyungsoo wakes up, his chest expanding, his heart rate increasing. 

“Chanyeol,” he says, voice low and raw. It sends an odd sort of shiver down Chanyeol’s spine. “What are you doing?”

Chanyeol presses his hand closer to Kyungsoo’s chest, feeling his beat of his heart change to a quicker _thump thump thump_. “I’m having a moment,” he says, and smiles slightly to himself. 

“You’re being weird,” Kyungsoo says, and he sounds slightly nervous, maybe concerned. “Are you okay?”

And there he goes again. Checking on Chanyeol. Making sure everything is alright. Chanyeol knows it’s his job, he knows it’s just as much for his own benefit as it is for Chanyeol’s, but it still means a lot to him. “I’m unstable,” Chanyeol admits. “My life is basically as chaotic as it can get. But you’re amazing, just so you know.”

Kyungsoo lets out a breathless little laugh. “You have a strange propensity for touching me in my sleep. That’s two mornings out of three, you know.”

“Shut up,” Chanyeol mumbles. “You’re making it weird.”

“It’s been weird since you started doing it.” Chanyeol can hear the smile in Kyungsoo’s voice. “Let go of me. We need to start moving.”

Chanyeol does, eyes still closed, and Kyungsoo rolls out of bed. It’s silent for a moment, and then Kyungsoo says, “And for the record, I’m only stable because I have to be, for you.”

A smile tugs at Chanyeol’s lips, and his own heart goes _thump thump thump._ Then he gets up. 

“We need to get into the mountains,” Kyungsoo tells him, moving around their little room. “But first, you probably want to do a little looting.”

“ _Looting?_ ” Chanyeol has to stifle a laugh as he stretches and buckles his armour on. He doesn’t feel like taking any chances today. “Like stealing?”

“It’s not stealing if no one owns it,” Kyungsoo says blandly. “Take anything you can find that might come in handy. You’ll be surprised what you can find around abandoned settlements like these.”

Humming, Chanyeol finishes getting his boots on and pulls on his gloves, then stuffs his helmet in his backpack before slinging it over his shoulder and double-checking his weapons on his belt. “Ready to go.”

“Start looking then, hero,” Kyungsoo says, and wanders out the door. 

Chanyeol does a quick scan of the room they stayed in, but apart from the bed, all he finds are a couple broken bottles and a lot of dust bunnies. “Soo!” he calls. “Are broken bottles useful?”

Kyungsoo pokes his head back in, gives him an unimpressed look, and says, “Unless you plan to get in a bar fight, no.”

“Just asking,” Chanyeol mumbles, then follows him out. 

The rest of the building, thankfully, yields much more. Chanyeol unearths a couple of old 20% HP booster flasks from some broken cupboards, as well as a few empty bottles, which apparently can be sold if they’re not broken. He picks up a few other odds and ends around the abandoned village, articles of clothing that don’t fit him and dolls that are missing eyes and broken bits of technology that Chanyeol can’t name. 

Somehow—and Chanyeol is _sure_ they break some laws of physics—they fit everything into his backpack along with his existing belongings, and then Kyungsoo turns to face him and says, “Well. Now you’ve got a decision to make.”

“Huh?” Chanyeol blinks at him, pausing in his task of getting his extra blaster gun battery onto his blaster gun. His old one was nearly empty after yesterday’s battles, and besides, with all the looting he’s been doing, he’s running out of room in his pack. “What decision?”

“Where we want to go next.” Kyungsoo holds out his hand and briskly says, “Map.”

“Oh, right.” Chanyeol scrambles for the gadget Yifan gave him, passing it to his guide quickly. “Aren’t we heading into the mountains next?”

“Yup.” Kyungsoo sits down on the floor of the building they’d been rummaging through and activates the map, which shows the vast grasslands they’d just covered, and a ridge of mountains above it. “But there are two ways to go about that.”

“We’re here?” Chanyeol points to a blinking dot just below the horizontal mountain range. “Where’s the closest pass or whatever?”

“Technically, the closest would be this one.” Kyungsoo points to a path that leads through the mountains, straight to the river on the other side. 

“Great, let’s go there,” Chanyeol says, getting up. “It shouldn’t take too long to get there, right?”

“Whoa, hold up there. When has rushing into things ever been a good idea?” Kyungsoo gives him a withering look, and Chanyeol sits back down. “As I was saying, that would be the closest one. But it’s also the most-used mountain pass. Which means not only will it be full of people, but it will also be full of R-Guards, and they will card you and go through your stuff and probably arrest you, because let’s be real, you look like an outlaw. And I’ve got a rebel wristband.”

“Oh.” Chanyeol slumps and bites his lip. “Okay, what’s our other option?”

“This one.” Kyungsoo points to a section of the mountains on the other side of their position.

Chanyeol bends to look closer, but sees nothing. “Where?”

“It’s an unofficial pass. Nobody uses it anymore.” Kyungsoo peers up at him. “Fun story, though.”

“Yeah? Tell me.”

“There used to be a rebel camp there, hidden in the mountains. A big one, too. But it was discovered and destroyed, so now there are scouts that fly over the pass every now and then to make sure no one’s using it, no one’s rebuilding the camp, and all that.”

Chanyeol makes a face. “That’s not fun!”

Kyungsoo shrugs. “Anyway, it’s safer than the main pass, if you ignore the danger of falling rocks, the occasional mountain SCAB, and the possibility of being spotted by scouts and arrested.”

Chanyeol blanches. “That doesn’t sound safer at all!”

But Kyungsoo just shrugs again. “There are many, _many_ more R-Guards on the main pass than there are scouts over the rebel one. Plus there are a lot of places to hide in the latter. If we take the main pass, you’ll either have to ditch all your stuff and potentially me to get past the guards, or you’ll have to find a very good disguise and have really high stealth stats.”

“Oh.” Chanyeol cringes. “Okay. Um.”

“Up to you.” Kyungsoo deactivates the map and hands it back to him, standing up. “Choose carefully, but also quickly. Time's a-wastin.”

Chanyeol groans frustratedly. “I hate making decisions,” he complains. “I hate being a hero.”

Kyungsoo smiles wryly. “And I hate being a guide. Now come on, make your choice.”

“The, uh.” Chanyeol screws up his face and thinks hard. “The...shit, I don’t know. The rebel pass?”

“Yeah? Is that your choice?” Kyungsoo’s face is perfectly neutral, and it drives Chanyeol crazy, even though he knows Kyungsoo can’t help it. 

“...Yes. Yeah, sure, why not.” Chanyeol sighs and stands. “To the Mountain Pass from Hell.”

Kyungsoo gives a short laugh. “Alright. That’s the spirit. Let’s go.”

They make it to the edge of the ghost town before Kyungsoo’s face suddenly goes white. “ _Shit_ ,” he whispers, freezing in place as he looks out ahead of them. “Oh, _fuck._ ” 

“What?” Chanyeol’s stomach turns uneasily. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t believe I forgot— Oh, god, Chanyeol, you’re going to hate this. I have to tell you something. You’re going to hate this so much.” Kyungsoo stares up at him with wide eyes, and it looks like he might be shaking. 

“What?”

“I can’t— God, I’m so sorry.”

“Kyungsoo, what’s wrong?” Chanyeol asks desperately. 

Kyungsoo just shakes his head, pale as death, and pulls him forwards. 

The familiar sensation of a flashback tugs at his mind, and Chanyeol’s heart skips a horrified beat. 

The scene is dark and still and silent. He’s in a bedroom, and there’s a boy sleeping on the bed. Just sleeping. It’s Kyungsoo, albeit a few years younger, maybe 15 or 16. His breaths are deep and even. 

And then a loud air horn goes off, resounding like an alarm, and people start shouting. The bedroom door bursts open, and an older boy rushes in. “Get up, little brother,” he says frantically, shaking Kyungsoo awake roughly. Their eyes are both wide with fear. “Get up, we need to hide.”

“Why, what’s wrong?” Kyungsoo asks, stumbling to his feet, looking around. 

“Just _hide_ ,” the older boy says, and opens a hidden door in the wall, pushing Kyungsoo in. “And don’t come out, no matter what.”

The older brother rushes away a moment later, and the door to Kyungsoo’s hiding place swings open slightly. There’s a clear view from there through his bedroom door, into the kitchen, where officers have kicked down the door and poured into the house, pointing guns at an unfamiliar man and woman. “That’s them,” says a gruff voice. “Shoot ‘em.”

“No,” whispers Kyungsoo, his face painted with agony. 

Two shots ring out, and Chanyeol wants to scream, but he can’t. There’s blood everywhere, and two bodies on the ground, and Kyungsoo is crying. 

“I found a kid,” another man says, and Kyungsoo’s brother is dragged into view. 

“Shoot him,” says the first. “Search the rest of the house.”

Kyungsoo’s brother puts up a fight, reaching for the officer’s arm as he aims his gun, and the bullet goes through his stomach. He falls, and the officer leaves him there, screaming. 

A moment later, someone heads for Kyungsoo’s room, and the terrified boy pulls his hidden door closed. The scene goes dark, but Chanyeol can hear people tearing apart the house for another several minutes before everything goes silent save for Kyungsoo’s weak sobs. 

He emerges a while later, to a destroyed house and quiet rooms. He walks into the kitchen, his body trembling and his chest heaving as tears drip from his chin, and his parents and brother lie on the floor there. There’s so much blood, and his brother is still moving. He stares up at Kyungsoo with wide, faraway eyes. “Please,” he whispers, clutching at his stomach. “ _Please—_ ” 

And then he goes still. 

When Chanyeol can see again, he’s on the grass, dry-heaving as tears run down his cheeks. He feels like sobbing, but no sound can get out of his constricted throat. It’s all he can do just to _breathe._

“Shhhh,” Kyungsoo says beside him, and Chanyeol realizes his guide is stroking through his hair with his fingers, like Chanyeol’s mother used to. “Hey, Chanyeol, it’s okay. They’re not real, everything is— It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Oh god,” Chanyeol groans, sucking in a painful breath as his lungs start to burn. He lets his forehead fall into his hands, rubbing his eyes harshly, trying to forget the image of all that scarlet blood, the sound of those gunshots. 

It takes him a while to register how much Kyungsoo, beside him, is shaking. 

“Shit, Soo.” Chanyeol sits up, wiping his eyes. “Are you okay?”

Kyungsoo sits back immediately, eyes glassy, face sickly pale. He looks like he’s about to pass out. “I’m—” His throat bobs and he nods feebly, but an unmistakable tremor runs down his body. 

“Fuck. Come here.” Chanyeol pulls the younger man towards him, across the grass to tuck him close to his body. It’s easier to feel Kyungsoo’s trembles like that, and that scares Chanyeol, in a way, but at the same time, focusing on someone else helps him to stop freaking out. Maybe that’s why Kyungsoo always does it for him. 

He presses Kyungsoo’s head to his shoulder, letting his smaller body slump against his side. “You don’t have to pretend you’re fine for my sake,” he murmurs. 

Kyungsoo takes a huge, rattling breath and shivers violently. “I’ve seen it fifteen times, I shouldn’t still—”

“Nightmares don’t get less scary no matter how many times you see them,” Chanyeol whispers. “I should know.”

“They’re not even my _real family_ ,” Kyungsoo says, voice weak. 

Chanyeol holds him close to his side and tugs off his glove. “Here,” he says, offering his wrist. “You can feel my pulse if you want.”

A surprised laugh that sounds kind of like a sob falls from Kyungsoo’s lips. “What?”

“It helps me,” Chanyeol hums. “It’s anchoring, you know?”

There’s a moment of silence, and then Kyungsoo’s small fingers press into Chanyeol’s wrist, seeking out his pulse. Chanyeol closes his eyes and listens with him, silently, focusing on just that and the warmth of Kyungsoo’s body against his as his heart rate evens out. 

“Why do you have to be so thoughtful and charming,” Kyungsoo says quietly after a while. “It makes my life incredibly difficult.”

Chanyeol laughs, jostling him slightly. “Sorry,” he says, rubbing Kyungsoo’s arm none too gently. 

“I’m serious,” Kyungsoo mutters, and then pulls himself away and stands up. “Sorry for...freaking out. I’m okay now.”

Chanyeol looks up at him, squinting against the sun. “Are you sure?” he asks. “We don’t have to keep going right away.”

“I’m fine,” Kyungsoo insists, sniffing and rubbing his face. “Like I said, I...I’ve seen it fifteen times. I’m over it.”

Chanyeol can tell he isn’t, but he lets it go. It’s not like he wants to think about it either. “Alright,” he says, getting to his feet. “Let’s go.” 

“Are _you_ okay?” Kyungsoo asks, casting him a sideways glance. 

Chanyeol winces at the immediate memory recall of blood and gunshot wounds and other things he generally tries not to visualize, ever. “I’m good,” he says quickly, focusing on Kyungsoo’s face, the rhythmic sounds of their footsteps. “But should you be telling me something…?”

“Yeah.” Kyungsoo sighs. “Right. I can only tell you what’s in my script.”

“Go for it,” Chanyeol says, nodding. 

“Alright, well. As you probably guessed, my parents were killed.” Kyungsoo looks at him briefly. “And my brother. They were rebels.”

“And the government found out?” 

“They were pretty daring.” Kyungsoo grins vaguely. “They thought there was something up with the then-opposing party. Black party. They knew a war was brewing, and they knew the ruling party was messed up, but they thought the opposing party was even more so.” 

“And?”

“They infiltrated the system.”

“And left two sons behind?” Chanyeol asks incredulously. “What kind of messed-up parents would—”

Kyungsoo cuts him off with a wave of his hand and a crooked smile. “Calm down, Chanyeol. It’s not real.”

“ _Still_ ,” Chanyeol mutters. Then, “Sorry, go on.”

“To be honest, I don’t know the fine details. All I can tell you right now is that they learned some stuff about the party and MAISS that they weren’t supposed to.”

“Ah! The master robot thing.” Chanyeol hadn’t heard the name in a while. 

Kyungsoo hums. “They thought it was too powerful. Too dangerous.”

“Well obviously. It’s a master robot thing that controls a million other dangerous robots.” Chanyeol shakes his head and rolls his eyes. 

Kyungsoo smacks his arm. “Yeah yeah, I don’t think they watched enough dystopian sci-fi movies to be in charge of a government party either. No need to be snooty about it.” 

Chanyeol laughs. “So that’s the whole story? Your parents infiltrated the bad guys, discovered some dirt on them and their fancy piece of artificial intelligence, and were killed because of it?”

“Basically.” Kyungsoo stares straight ahead as they walk. The ground is much rockier here than it had been in the grasslands, and Chanyeol can barely get over how enormous the mountains are just to their right. “Anyway, that’s how I know so much. My parents were straight-up badass rebels. They were planning on heading an attack on the opposing party before the war, but...well, that didn’t work out. The war itself broke out not long after that.”

“Man, what a cheerful game,” Chanyeol says sarcastically. “Everything is really just sunshine and rainbows out here.”

Kyungsoo laughs. “Trust me, we’re all complaining. Suck it up, hero.”

Chanyeol makes a face at him. “Don’t tell me what to do,” he says childishly. “I’m the hero. I’m the Chosen One. I’m practically Harry Potter.”

Kyungsoo snorts, punching him in the shoulder. 

“I am Anakin Skywalker, minus the part where I turn evil and stuff.”

“I hate you,” Kyungsoo tells him. 

“No you don’t.” Chanyeol catches his hand. “You like me exactly...40 out of 150.” He blinks. “Hey, that’s actually—”

Kyungsoo rips his hand away, scowling. “Whatever.”

“Wait, I wanted to check mine!” Chanyeol objects, trying to grab his hand again. 

“It’s 40,” Kyungsoo says, voice sharp, and quickens his pace. 

“Oh.” Chanyeol jogs to keep up with him, amazed by how fast his short legs can move. “That’s a lot.”

It hits Chanyeol a while later that that essentially means Kyungsoo likes Chanyeol as much as Chanyeol likes him. 

And Chanyeol, to be entirely honest, likes Kyungsoo a lot. 

 

“I can’t believe we made it here without getting attacked by anything.” Chanyeol stares at the path winding up between rocky cliffs in awe and trepidation. 

“The game makers decided to give you a break, I guess,” Kyungsoo says with a hum. “That, or it’s the calm before the storm.”

Chanyeol grimaces. Both of those options invite imminent danger. “When’s the part of the game where I just get to stroll through the country without fearing for my life?” 

“You just passed it,” Kyungsoo says blandly. 

“Not fair! I didn’t know, so I was still fearing for it.”

Kyungsoo chuckles, then gestures towards the pathway. “After you, hero.”

Chanyeol starts out immediately, shoulders squared and senses alert. “Any advice for this leg of the journey, O Great Guide?” he asks, voice light even as he scans his surroundings for something that might try to kill him. 

“Oh, I have tons of advice,” Kyungsoo says blandly, trailing along behind him and kicking at stray rocks. 

“Please share.”

“It’s called _listen to Kyungsoo when he’s actually allowed to tell you stuff._ ” Kyungsoo’s rock hits Chanyeol’s ankle. “How long is it going to take you to understand I have a script to follow?”

Chanyeol turns around expressly to make a face at him. “Well you’re always saying stuff that obviously _isn’t_ in your dumb script, so I have trouble understanding exactly to what extent you have to follow it.”

Kyungsoo scoffs, and Chanyeol thinks he mockingly says _dumb script._ “Let me spell it out for you. Game-related? Script. Not game-related? No script. I can’t give you any information that you wouldn’t already know if you were playing the game from the other side of a screen. If I’m speaking freely, either it has nothing to do with the game, or you’d have already learned it. Or I’m giving you that information for the first time, at the _correct_ time, as I’m allowed to.”

Chanyeol huffs in annoyance, even if that _does_ make things clearer to him. He switches topics, since obviously he won’t be able to get anything else useful out of his guide. “You’re always talking about _allowed_ and _not allowed._ What happens to you if you tell me something you’re not supposed to?”

“Ah, you see, that’s where the Game Gods live up to their name. It’s less that I’m not _allowed_ and more that I’m not _capable_. Heroes are given more free will than us minor characters. I don’t know if you’ll ever experience it; maybe if you tried to do something that’s impossible in the game, like...shoot yourself, or something. But even then, I don’t know if it would work the same way.” Chanyeol turns to look at Kyungsoo, who fixes him with a dark stare. “You’re lucky. It’s not a fun feeling, not being in control of yourself.”

“So...you just _can’t say it?_ The words don’t come out, or…?”

Kyungsoo shrugs. “It’s hard to explain. My brain hits an invisible wall, it feels like. Trains of thought don’t just get derailed—they disappear completely. What was I thinking about? I don’t know. Nothing. It’s gone. I know things, but I can’t even think about _hinting_ at them. When you ask me for advice I’m not authorized to give, all I can do is get frustrated, because it’s there, I could tell you how to save yourself, but every venture I make to tell you is stopped before it can even really begin.” Kyungsoo’s kicking a rock again. “I have to wait for the right time, or the right question.”

“Oh.” Chanyeol bites his lip, chooses his words carefully. “The right question…?” 

Kyungsoo sighs. “Yeah. Since you don’t get speech options with us, you just have to keep guessing at what they might be until you get close enough that we can give the scripted response to them. Fun, right?”

“Have I told you that I hate this game?”

“Several times.”

Chanyeol kicks at his own loose stone in frustration. “So would it be wise to ask you a billion ideas about the mountains and stuff?”

“Probably. I’ll just hate it.”

“Awesome.” Chanyeol sighs, flips the visor of his helmet down quickly to check the info displayed there. It’s still early in the day, just after noon, and his HP is at 100%. “Didn’t you say this secret rebel pass was super dangerous?” he asks, flipping his visor back up. 

“The day is young, and we’ve just barely gotten here. Don’t get your hopes up,” Kyungsoo says drily. 

“I’m starting to be able to predict exactly how you’re going to respond to me,” Chanyeol tells Kyungsoo with a crooked grin. 

Kyungsoo just pats him on the back, a little too roughly to be soothing. 

 

Chanyeol has asked fourteen questions and gotten zero real answers by the time he hears the first scout aircraft. It's quiet at first, a low hum that Chanyeol barely notices, but it gets slowly louder, and finally Chanyeol looks up to the sky and asks, "Should I be worried about that?"

Behind him, Kyungsoo's voice is unnervingly sharp and terse as he says, "Yes, Chanyeol, you should be _very_ worried."

"Oh." Chanyeol's eyes widen, and he turns on his heel. "Shit, really? What is it? What's going on?"

"It's a scout warning, genius," Kyungsoo tells him. "It means they're passing over this area and if you don't hide, they will find you."

"How can they see us from that far up?" Chanyeol asks, suddenly a little hysterical as he looks around wildly for the aircraft. He can't see much of the sky, with the mountains rising up on either side of him, but that also means the scouts shouldn't be able to see much of the _path_. 

"They have heat-detectors." Kyungsoo speaks quickly, urgently. "Infrared or whatever. Which means you need to get under cover, _now_." 

"Fuck, _where?_ " Chanyeol turns his gaze to his surroundings, breathing a little hard. 

" _Anywhere,_ " Kyungsoo presses. "Find a rock to hide under or something!"

The buzzing gets louder, closer, and Chanyeol scrambles. There are a few scraggly bushes nearby, poking out of the rocky ground, but he feels like that's not quite enough cover to hide him from heat detectors. Finally, after frantically climbing over a few boulders and nearly breaking his neck, he spots a rocky overhang, only a few feet high and barely large enough to shield two grown men. Chanyeol squeezes under it and pulls Kyungsoo close beside him as his guide crawls in after him, holding onto him tightly as he holds his breath. 

"Breathing won't make it easier or harder for them to see you," Kyungsoo tells him, but his voice is quiet, like he's afraid, too. Chanyeol doesn't point it out. He's kind of distracted anyway, by the way Kyungsoo's warm breath fans against his throat. They're actually ludicrously close together. 

"Just tell me when it's safe to come out," Chanyeol grouches at him. "This position is incredibly uncomfortable and the rock is hurting my knees."

"Boohoo, poor baby. Get used to it. The mountains are not fun."

A few seconds later, the buzzing sound fades, and Kyungsoo carefully extracts himself from the safety of the overhang. Chanyeol follows, heaving a sigh of relief. "We survived!"

Kyungsoo laughs. "Now just do that about two dozen more times, and you might survive this terrain." 

Chanyeol responds with his usual childish face. "Let me have my moment, alright? Even small victories can be celebrated you know. I'm still alive, you're still alive. Party pooper."

Kyungsoo sticks out his tongue at him. "Let's get moving, dumbass."

"I like 'hero' better, actually," Chanyeol says as he begins to walk. "It makes me feel better about myself."

"I'm not here to bolster your self-esteem. Dumbass."

"You are a terrible guide. Do you say mean things and swear at your younger heroes, too?"

"I treat each hero as I deem appropriate. And I deem it appropriate to call you a dumbass when you are one."

Chanyeol points an accusing finger at him. "You are a cruel person."

Kyungsoo just smiles winningly. It shouldn't work, but it totally does, and Chanyeol's heart melts a tiny bit. Curse him and his cute face.

The moment is ruined by a distant, low rumbling sound. Chanyeol groans. "Seriously? Again _already?_ "

"Whoa, nope, stop," Kyungsoo says quickly, grabbing Chanyeol by the arm before he can start looking for a new place to hide. "Chanyeol, listen. That is not the same sound as before."

"It isn't?" Chanyeol freezes, listens. Kyungsoo's right. The scout had made a humming sound—this is more of a soft thunder noise. "Oh. Is this a worse sound or a better one?"

"That depends on if you're better at hiding or running." Kyungsoo turns and looks up at the rocky mountain face to their left, eyes wide.

Chanyeol follows his gaze and sucks in a gasp through his teeth. There are rocks hurtling towards them at top speed, and the sound is getting louder very quickly. "Oh shit—"

"Watch it!" Kyungsoo yells, and the first rock reaches them, bouncing across the pass just a meter away from where Chanyeol stands, frozen with fear. A stone the size of a golf ball hits him in the sternum, and Chanyeol hisses in pain, stumbling back.

"I am _not_ good at dodgeball!" Chanyeol yells, and then leaps to the side as a microwave-sized boulder flies past him. He doesn't have time to check on Kyungsoo, because more rocks keep coming on either side of him, making him throw himself left and right as he tries not to get pummeled. A couple of wayward, smaller rocks slam into him, nearly making him lose his breath a few times but mostly just making him groan and swear. At one point, a large chunk of stone soars right over his head, missing the top of his helmet by a couple of bare inches as he ducks, and the closeness of the miss makes Chanyeol gasp for air.

As suddenly as it started, it's over. Chanyeol's _injured_ times blinks for a mere ten seconds, and his HP is down a fraction, but that's it. He clutches his chest and breathes deeply.

"Not bad at all, Chanyeol," Kyungsoo says, walking over to him and patting his back. "You handled that really well, actually."

"Thank you," Chanyeol pants. "It was horrifying." He looks Kyungsoo over, notes how unruffled he looks. "How did you not get hit, like, _at all?_ "

Instead of answering, Kyungsoo merely winks. "Trade secret."

Chanyeol snorts, but doesn't probe. He knows Kyungsoo would tell him if he could. "I wish _I_ were a guide," he mutters, straightening up and heading along the path again.

Kyungsoo trails along behind him, and Chanyeol could swear he hears him darkly say, "No. You don't."

 

And that's pretty much how the first day of Chanyeol's trek through the mountains goes. They hide from scouts when they hear them approaching, frantically looking for tiny caves or overhangs and squeezing into them, and they try not to get killed by falling rocks. Sometimes, an hour or two goes by in which they don't see either. Other times, they find themselves hiding and dodging more often than they're making progress. The only upside to that is that Chanyeol's stealth stats go up to 30. It's a very small victory, but Chanyeol will take it. 

Before long, though—and Chanyeol swears time goes by at double or triple speed here—the sun is setting, and anxiety starts to build up in his gut. "Uh...Soo?"

"You keep calling me that," Kyungsoo mutters. 

Chanyeol ignores him. He has bigger problems right now. "I checked the map, and we're only, like...halfway through these mountains. And it's almost night."

"Hmm," Kyungsoo says vaguely. "So it is."

"So, like...are we going to be walking straight through the night, or...?"

"That's probably not a good idea."

Kyungsoo's mild tone gets on Chanyeol's nerves quickly, even when he knows there's not much his guide can do about the information he's giving. "Then what am I supposed to do?" 

As expected, Kyungsoo just shrugs. 

Grumbling, Chanyeol looks around. "Could I...I dunno, sleep in a cave or something? If I found one?"

"You can only sleep in places that have the moon symbols," Kyungsoo reminds him. 

"So that's a no?" Chanyeol makes a face. "Not many hotels out in the middle of nowhere, huh."

"Hotels aren't the only places with moons," Kyungsoo tells him, and then he falls silent. 

Chanyeol grumbles some more, and they keep walking. 

A few minutes later, they enter a section of the mountain pass that twists through two flat, smooth cliff faces, narrow but winding. Kyungsoo has to walk directly behind Chanyeol, who feels intensely unqualified to be in the lead. He listens to every faint sound closely, creeping along the dim path and startling at every gust of wind and scuff of their feet on the rocks. It's harder to see now in the half-light of dusk, and Chanyeol still has no idea what to do about the sleeping situation. It makes him all the more jumpy.

The low buzz of a scout aircraft is unexpected and nothing short of devastating. "Shit," Chanyeol hisses. "Where the hell am I supposed to hide _here?_ "

Kyungsoo doesn't answer, just prods him in the back, and Chanyeol obediently takes off, looking around desperately. He careens around a couple of turns, but the path continues to be narrow and the walls of rock unrelenting. Short of digging himself a hole in the stone, there's nothing he can do but plaster himself to the cliff face and hope for the best. And he doesn't think that'll go well, so he keeps running, praying for a miracle.

He skids around a sharp turn, and comes face to face with the barrel of a blaster gun. "Don't move," says a quiet, dangerous voice.

Chanyeol nearly screams, throwing his hands in the air on instinct and staring with wide eyes at the yellow-haired man behind the gun. Kyungsoo runs into him as he catches up, and Chanyeol doesn't move or speak as he feels his guide freeze up behind him.

"Who are you?" the man asks, eyes flicking skywards as the buzzing sound gets louder. "Answer me!"

"I'm—I'm—" Chanyeol draws a shaky breath, tries to kick his brain into processing the situation rather than panicking uselessly. "I'm Ch-Chanyeol."

"Am I supposed to recognize your name?" the man asks sharply, and Chanyeol bites back a frightened whimper. The gun pointed at his forehead is barely three feet away.

"I-I, uh." Realization hits him suddenly. "Wait, I don't have speech options. You're—you’re real!"

The man's eyes widen slightly, but he doesn't react to the accusation. "Tell me who you are!"

Chanyeol panics. The scouts are getting closer, and they're stuck here until he either gets away or gets shot. Or shoots the man, maybe. He has an HP bar, which means Chanyeol could, potentially, kill him.

The very thought sickens him. His brain works furiously. The man is in the pass. The rebel pass. He's wearing ragged clothing. He's nervous about the scouts; he keeps glancing up. He's suspicious of Chanyeol. Something red peeks out from under the cuff of his sleeve. "Kyungsoo, show him your wristband."

"What?"

"Show him your wristband. _Now._ "

Kyungsoo steps forward and pulls his sleeve back, flashing the scarlet cloth at the man with the gun. Chanyeol holds his breath.

The man's eyes flash, and he glances up at the sky. "Follow me."

Breath rushes out of Chanyeol's lungs as they run forwards, around another bend, through a narrow gap in the rock wall and into a rather spacious cave. The sound of the scouts passes overhead, then begins to fade. Chanyeol trembles with relief.

The mysterious man looks him over carefully. "So," he says, voice now softer. "Chanyeol, huh?"

Chanyeol offers him a weak smile. "Yeah. Hey. What's your name?"

The man chuckles, holds out his hand. "Yixing."


	8. Chapter 8

“I’m sorry for scaring you like that. You can never be too careful in these parts.” Yixing’s smile is warm and repentant—very unlike his first impression. Like this, he doesn’t _look_ like he has combat stats of 90.

Chanyeol nods understandingly, even though his heart is still racing as he glances around the cave. It’s not huge, but it’s roomy compared to the other ones he’s hidden in so far. “So, Yixing,” he says, cocking his head to the side. “What are you still _doing_ in these parts? Kyungsoo told me the rebel camp out here got destroyed.” He pauses, then adds, “You _are_ a rebel, aren’t you?”

Yixing’s face immediately darkens. “I am,” he says. “And it did. Get destroyed, I mean.” 

Chanyeol expects the flashback by now. He braces himself for gore and pain, but instead, after the now-familiar tugging sensation between his eyes, his view of the rebel camp getting ransacked by R-Guards in standard white uniforms is surprisingly distant. He can hear muffled shouts and gun blasts, and he can see people falling, but everything is rather hazy and unclear. It feels more like watching an old movie than watching a scene unfold in front of his eyes, and Chanyeol is more relieved than he can express in words. 

The destruction of the camp, from what Chanyeol can see from brief glimpses and a shot of smoking remains, is very thorough. At the end, all that’s left are a few standing tents with tattered red flags, and a shivering young man cowering beneath a pile of supplies. It’s Yixing, though looking a little younger; less aged by weariness and hardship. When all falls silent, he creeps out of hiding and collects a few things, then slinks away into the mountains. 

The following scene shows Yixing with another man, working on a boat floating lazily through a sickly green river. It’s clear that they don’t know each other well, sending each other slightly shy, awkward smiles and conversing stiffly, but the next brief series of scenes show them working and living together increasingly comfortably. Eventually, though, Yixing leaves with a tight smile and a wave of his hand, a bag slung over his shoulder, and the next scene shows him back in the mountains, picking through the scattered remains of what was once the camp. He’s careful and wary, casting anxious glances around himself and at the sky, but he leaves the camp unscathed and with little gained. 

The final scene of the flashback shows Yixing finding the cave they’re in now, unrolling a bed mat and starting a small fire. It’s clearly not much, but also clearly all Yixing has. 

When Chanyeol can see again, he sucks in a deep, calming breath, and smiles reassuringly at Kyungsoo, who looks concerned for him, as usual. “I’m okay,” he murmurs. “It wasn’t...terrible.” He doesn’t let his mind linger over the brief images of war and destruction. 

“Questions?” Yixing asks, cocking his head to the side. His face is an enigma to Chanyeol, an anomaly. He looks so innocent, but his eyes are sharp and hard. He somehow manages to look simultaneously like a child and like a veteran of war, flickering between the two personas effortlessly. He looks like someone who was given a rough lot in life, but is desperately trying not to let it affect him. 

“Many,” Chanyeol answers after a long, searching look at their new ally. “Can you give me any details on...who you are? And what you did while you weren’t in the mountains? And why you came back?”

Yixing chuckles softly. “Would you like to sit down first?”

Chanyeol, whose legs are a little unsteady as they always are after a flashback, quickly accepts the offer. The three of them sit on the hard rock floor, and it should be uncomfortable, but Chanyeol barely notices it. 

“I,” Yixing begins, “am a nobody rebel. Or was. I joined the movement as a young adult with a passionate, indignant spirit, and I worked here in the camp, training and helping others prepare. About six months back, though, the camp was discovered by scouts and subsequently demolished. As you saw, I survived the attack, but many didn’t, and the rest scattered. I headed for the river.”

“What river?” Chanyeol asks, pulling out his map from his bag. It shows the mountain range, and farther north, a squiggling line that runs along the edge of it. “This big one?”

Yixing hums in affirmation. “That’s the one. The camp had an ally that worked there, bringing stuff across the river for them, goods and messages. I was at a loss, so I sought him out, and I worked for him for several months.”

“And then?” Chanyeol prompts when Yixing pauses, blinking slowly. 

“And then I returned here. In hopes of finding other survivors, mostly, but also to recruit new rebels, considering it’s usually people of the same mindset that travel this route. I protect the old camp from looters, too. There’s still some goods there, stuff that no one else has bothered to come by and collect.”

“Ahh,” Chanyeol says slowly. “Do you...want to hear about us, then?”

Yixing chuckles softly. “I already know about you. You’re not the first hero to come through here, Chanyeol. As many times as the game resets, I still have a brain. But if you want to tell me, go ahead.”

Chanyeol shrugs bashfully. “I feel like I should, because I don’t know...you.”

“Feel free,” Yixing says lightly, gesturing with his hands to keep talking. 

“Well,” Chanyeol begins. “I’m, uh. Let’s see here. As far as I know...I’m the son of a guy. Who knew stuff. Government is bad. My dad died, apparently. I’m trying to take down the government and their huge artificial intelligence corps. Kyungsoo is the son of rebels who is helping me because his parents knew stuff but they got killed. Is that it, Soo?”

Kyungsoo shoots him a dry half-smile. “Pretty well.”

Chanyeol cups a hand around his mouth, like he’s telling Yixing a secret. “But actually though, I’m an internet technician with PTSD from childhood trauma and I’ve been mysteriously sucked into a futuristic video game.”

Yixing laughs, bright and a little surprised. “Go figure.”

“Right? It seems like a recurring theme here. Minus the PTSD.” Chanyeol cracks a weary grin. 

Yixing hums, moving to lean against the wall of his cave. “People don’t often like to talk about their real lives, here.”

“I usually stop them from doing it, more like,” Kyungsoo mutters. “I’ve dealt with too many meltdowns from that.”

Chanyeol chews on his lip, reaching out for Kyungsoo’s form for half a second before changing his mind and withdrawing his hand. Instead, he says, “I understand why you would discourage it, but...I’d rather not forget who I really am, you know? I don’t want to forget that I’m not...this.” He gestures down at himself, at his armour and his weapons strapped to his hip.

“I understand,” Yixing says, nodding slowly. “I often need to remind myself that I’m not...this.” He smiles slightly, sadly, and his eyes are shuttered. “Anyway, you two must be tired. Sleep, recover, and we can talk in the morning.”

Kyungsoo hums his assent, and they spend the next few minutes unrolling more sleep mats around the cave and lying down on them. Chanyeol strips off the worst of his armour, but keeps his sword handy, letting it rest next to his head. He says his goodnights to Yixing and Kyungsoo, but he doesn’t close his eyes. 

Strangely, he doesn’t feel that tired. It takes him a while to realize he didn’t...kill anything today. He did a lot of running and hiding, but very little fighting. Compared to how often he’s becoming accustomed to fearing for his life, today was...almost restful. He feels alert and less than exhausted for the first time in a while. He knows he should feel drained, but for some reason, he doesn’t feel like sleeping. 

He doesn’t know what time it is when Kyungsoo suddenly shifts on the mat next to him and his shadowy form gets up and moves to the mouth of the cave, sitting down to look out, even though it’s pitch black outside and there’s nothing but rock to see besides. He just sits there, and Chanyeol stares at his back for a few moments, wondering if this is some sort of cutscene from the game or something. It’s entirely possible, but it doesn’t really _feel_ like one, so he can’t be sure. 

With a soft sigh, he gets up and joins Kyungsoo at the cave entrance, settling down beside him. “Hey,” he says gently. 

Kyungsoo exhales slowly. “Hey,” he murmurs back. “Sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Nah. Couldn’t sleep.”

Kyungsoo shifts slightly. “Me neither.”

“This—” Chanyeol pauses, thinks about what he’s about to say. “Is this game-dictated, or is this real?”

Kyungsoo laughs quietly, shaking his head. Chanyeol can’t make out many details of his face in the dark, but it looks like he’s smiling. “This is...as real as things can get in this game. Occasionally real life seeps through the godforsaken cracks of the game world, and you can’t sleep no matter how hard you try.”

Chanyeol hums, feeling warmth radiate from Kyungsoo’s shoulder, just a bare inch from his own. _That_ feels real. It’s comforting in this bleak, unfamiliar landscape. 

They stay like that for a while, just sitting and staring out into the darkness, each to his own thoughts, and it’s nice, in a way. Chanyeol rarely gets a chance to just...sit. And relax, maybe, if one can call anything about his current situation relaxing. But for once he doesn’t feel like he’s in danger—the full moon etched above the cave entrance contributes to that—or like he should be doing something. He should probably be sleeping, recuperating, but at the same time, this almost feels more important. Just sitting. Thinking. Hopefully being of some small comfort to Kyungsoo beside him, whatever personal demons are haunting him.

Out of the blue, maybe ten minutes later, maybe an hour, Kyungsoo softly says, “Can I ask you something? Personal? You don’t have to answer.”

“Sure,” Chanyeol says, looking at him. “Go ahead.”

Kyungsoo inhales slowly, then lets it out through his nose. He’s silent for a moment longer, and then says, “Did you— _do_ you—ever feel like...like you want to get back at whoever killed your dad?”

Chanyeol blinks at the unexpected question, and his chest twinges slightly, but the question doesn’t bother him as much as he might have thought it would. He thinks about it for a moment. “No,” he answers eventually. “No, not really. I hated them, maybe, but...whoever it was, they were just following orders. Just like my dad. They were just standing up for whatever they believed in, or just doing what they felt like they had to do. And if I...if I killed them for it—if they’re even still alive—I would just be taking more people out of the world. Fathers of children, maybe. And then those children will want to kill _me._ ” He smiles crookedly, humorlessly. “Hurting people doesn’t solve things, I figure. It just...hurts people.”

When Chanyeol looks at Kyungsoo again, he finds his guide looking back at him, eyes wide and glassy in the low light. He licks his lips, and Chanyeol catches himself following the movement with his eyes. “You’re—” Kyungsoo’s voice catches. “You’re a really good person, Chanyeol.” 

Chanyeol blushes. He can’t help it. He doesn’t respond, at a loss, and Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything else for a long time. He looks away, and Chanyeol looks away, and they sit in silence again for a while. 

Finally, Kyungsoo whispers, “I’ve hurt people.”

Chanyeol turns to him in surprise. “You have?”

“In this world. Not on purpose. I couldn’t help it. I’ve taken people out of this world. Maybe the real world, I don’t know. I don’t know what happens to them. I didn’t help them, couldn’t, even when I knew I could.” Kyungsoo’s voice is hoarse, and Chanyeol’s heart jolts with pain. 

“Kyungsoo—”

“I don’t feel pain, Chanyeol. I’m not a killable character. I don’t feel physical pain, ever. Not here.” Kyungsoo’s inhale is shuddery. “At first I thought I was lucky, but now I hate it. I want to hurt. At least then I’d feel _real_. Alive. At least then I’d feel what other people feel. I’ve hurt other people, let them get hurt, let _you_ get hurt, but I feel nothing.”

“Kyungsoo, that’s not true,” Chanyeol says quickly, feeling sympathy and sadness weigh on his chest like a force pushing against his ribs. “You do hurt. You hurt...inside. That’s worse. I get hurt, I get attacked, but that gets better. Hurting inside...that doesn’t go away. This game, it’s not fair. It’s not. But never think that you got let off easier than anyone else. Never feel bad for...for thinking you don’t have a right to be hurting, just because you can’t feel it physically.”

Kyungsoo laughs humorlessly, a little hysterically. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Chanyeol. I’ve watched so many people die. My fault. My fault. Every single one.” 

“None of them were your fault.” 

“I knew how to save them,” Kyungsoo insists. “But I couldn’t.” 

“Not your fault,” Chanyeol tells him forcefully, voice cracking with emotion. 

“I’m going to go crazy.” Kyungsoo’s breathing is slightly laboured, his voice strained. “I can feel it. Sometimes I think I already am.” 

Chanyeol swallows hard. “Crazy people don’t know they’re crazy.” 

“I think that’s bullshit.” 

“Kyungsoo…” 

“I can’t keep doing this forever, Chanyeol. I try not to get attached to heroes. I really try. Watching so many of them— It’s messed me up. I’m messed up. I want to help. I know I can help. But I can’t keep doing this.” He chokes on a hitched breath. “I’m terrified. I like you. I hate it. I hate myself. I hate that I don’t hurt. I hate that I think my parents and brother were killed in my kitchen. I hate that I get confused between them and my real family. I hate that I can’t die. But I want to live.” 

Chanyeol doesn’t know what to say. He’s had a handful of therapists in his life, but none of them have prepared him for dealing with something like this, someone just as lost and in pain as he is. So instead of saying anything, Chanyeol reaches out and pulls Kyungsoo against him, pulls his smaller body flush against his own and wraps both arms around his shoulders and feels him shake. “None of this is your fault, Kyungsoo,” he murmurs. “None of it.” 

Kyungsoo draws an unsteady breath and doesn’t make a move to pull away. “Sometimes I think I would kill someone just to get out of here. Sometimes I think I would kill _myself_ to get out of here. I’m not good like you.” 

Chanyeol closes his eyes and holds Kyungsoo tightly. “You do everything you can, Soo. You try so hard. I admire you for that. You’re so strong.” 

“It’s so hard.” He doesn’t sound pitiful, like a child. He sounds like a broken man, and that breaks Chanyeol’s heart. 

“I know it is. But you just have to take it one thing at a time.” 

Kyungsoo just breathes for a little while, inhales shakily and exhales like it hurts him, and shivers against Chanyeol. Then, finally, he says, “I’m sorry. I’m making it harder for you. I’m supposed to— It’s my job to be there for you. I’m doing a bad job. I’m sorry. I’m okay now. I’m not a baby, you don’t have to coddle me.”

“Shut up,” Chanyeol murmurs, lowering his head to rest his cheek against red hair. “Just stay.”

“I didn’t mean to freak out at you. Just forget this ever—”

“Shut _up_ , Soo. Stop apologizing. _I’m_ the baby. Coddle _me._ ” 

Kyungsoo falls silent, and Chanyeol closes his eyes and breathes slowly, trying to soothe the ache in his chest with his guide’s steady warmth. Things are messed up, they’re pretty much as bad as they could be, but at least neither of them are alone. 

 

They wake up in the same place, but curled up on the cave floor, Kyungsoo’s head tucked against Chanyeol’s chest, his breathing slow and even. Chanyeol has his arms curled limply around his smaller frame, and their legs are tangled between them, and it really shouldn’t be comfortable, sleeping on a rock floor, but something about bizarre game logic makes it perfectly fine. Discomfort has never really made sense in this world. 

Kyungsoo opens his eyes a moment later, stirring slightly, and he pulls away almost immediately. Their eyes meet, lying there together on the ground, and Kyungsoo quickly looks away. “Sorry,” he says gruffly, voice rough. He rolls away, gets to his knees, and Chanyeol bites his lip as he does the same. 

“I didn’t realize I fell asleep,” he says bashfully, scratching the back of his head. 

“Yeah. It’s fine. I’m just...sorry again, for having a meltdown at you yesterday.” Kyungsoo still doesn’t meet his eyes. 

“It’s fine,” Chanyeol says with a weary sigh. Kyungsoo will never understand that there’s nothing to apologize for, will he? “I’m still ahead of you in meltdowns suffered on this quest, aren’t I?”

Kyungsoo’s gaze flicks to him briefly, and he gives a crooked grin. “I suppose so.”

“I’m not about to let you catch up to me.” Chanyeol matches his grin with his own. “I have to keep up my image of _troubled hero._ ” 

“Of course.” Kyungsoo runs his fingers through his wild hair, taming it somewhat. “Anyway...thanks. For last night.”

“It was nothing,” Chanyeol assures him. 

“And that’s now 3 out of 4 nights I’ve woken up with you touching me. Don’t think I’m not keeping track.”

Chanyeol laughs loudly. “I swear, this time it was unintentional.”

“Your track record makes it suspicious.” Kyungsoo snorts. “Anyway. Let’s get Yixing up.” 

 

Watching Yixing's face is an experience. Chanyeol can't seem to look away from it, captivated by the way it changes drastically in the space of mere seconds, scared he'll miss something again if he blinks too long.

"You do know that your name is spelled wrong in your stats, right?" the other man asks brightly, first thing in the morning, smiling as his cheek dimples. His expression is open, honest, and sunny—everything Chanyeol would expect it not to be, in their current situation.

A couple moments later, though, Yixing is dark, glowering, closed-off. "I'll accompany you through the remainder of this pass, if you want me. I can help you get through the rough bits, help you find cover if you need it. That's about all I can do for you, other than kill you to save you the torture."

Chanyeol stares at him, aghast, until Kyungsoo pats his shoulder and softly says, "He's speaking in character."

Chanyeol swallows. "Oh."

Yixing looks rueful and young again a moment later, after a second's struggle to wrestle the frown off his face. "There's a, um. A favour I wish to ask of you, as well. A mission, if you will."

It takes a moment to recover from the whiplash. "A mission?" Chanyeol asks dubiously.

"It would mean a lot to me," Yixing says, and his face flickers again between gruff and sweet. Goes hard, then softens again, very quickly. Like he isn't sure whether he should be in character or not for this. "And I believe it would help you, too."

Chanyeol taps his fingertips against his thigh, then looks at Kyungsoo, who merely shrugs unhelpfully. "Well, what is it?" Chanyeol asks at last. "I don't usually accept missions, but—"

Yixing laughs slightly. "Don't say _‘I trust you.’_ Don't trust anyone, Chanyeol. Except Kyungsoo." He's not smiling anymore.

"I trusted Yifan," Chanyeol argues.

"Always be watching your back." Yixing gives him a hard look. Then it vanishes. His cheek dimples again. "Anyway. My mission."

"Right. What is it?"

Yixing draws an envelope from the folds of his shirt, or maybe from nowhere. He holds it up, but not out. "I need this delivered."

Chanyeol's eyes narrow automatically. "To whom?"

Yixing's fingers clench around the square of worn paper. "An...ally."

"The boat man?" Chanyeol cocks his head to the side. "The man I saw in the cutscene?"

Yixing nods slowly. "I need you to give this to him."

"So he can deliver it across the river? What is it? Why can't you find him yourself?"

Yixing gives a soft laugh. "You ask a lot of questions."

"Kyungsoo taught me to," Chanyeol states simply.

"Good. It's smart." Yixing taps his envelope against his hip. "But I can only answer the last one. Long story short, I'm needed here. I can take you to the edge of the mountain range, but I need to stay here. I need to recruit, and I need to protect what's left of the camp, and I need to be around for people like you, if they pass through here."

"But you're offering to go with us through the mountains, all the way to the edge. Doesn't that defeat the purpose of you trying to stay in the area or whatever?" Chanyeol asks, frowning. 

Yixing looks puzzled and stunned for a moment, processing his question. Kyungsoo laughs sharply. "That's not in the script," he tells Chanyeol. "Don't question the game's dubious logic."

"It's part of your payment,” Yixing offers. “I can't be away from the mountains for long, so I'm hiring you to deliver this message for me. I can't pay you in money, so I'm paying you partially in relatively safe travel through the pass."

"Partially?"

Yixing nods. "I can't offer much in return for you delivering the message for me, seeing as I don't have much. But I can help you through the pass. And I can offer you a few odds and ends from the wreckage of the camp."

Kyungsoo's fingers suddenly grip Chanyeol's elbow. "Think about it carefully, Chanyeol."

Chanyeol blinks at his guide's urging. Is that a hint? Is he trying to tell Chanyeol something? Or is that scripted? "Uh. So I just have to bring this envelope to some dude on a boat, and I get safe travels and some supplies or whatever?"

"Saf _er_ travels," Yixing corrects. "I can't promise you everything. And to be honest with you, this 'dude on a boat' is...kind of hard to find."

"Oh?"

"He moves around a lot," Yixing confesses, almost bashful. "He's constantly moving, because if he doesn't, he'll get caught. So no one knows exactly where he is. You just have to search."

Chanyeol groans, looks at Kyungsoo. "I don't want to waste time on a pointless mission, Soo..."

"Soo?" Yixing repeats inquisitively, a smile tugging at his lips. Kyungsoo ignores him.

"It's not pointless, Chanyeol. You'll be safer, and you'll get items out of it. Maybe more than that. Think about it."

Chanyeol sighs tiredly. "What if I can't find the dude? Do I just...take the payment and run?"

Yixing's face darkens. "I am risking my own safety for the sake of the delivery of this letter. I should hope you would ensure it ends up in the right hands."

Chanyeol swallows hard at his tone and expression. "Uh. Right. Of course."

“So is that a yes? You’ll do it?” Yixing’s face is soft and open again. It barely took a second. 

“I—” Chanyeol looks at Kyungsoo, whose face is carefully blank. He takes a deep breath. “I guess...yeah. I’ll do it.”

Yixing positively beams, and Chanyeol thinks Kyungsoo’s shoulders relax. Chanyeol is pretty sure he made the right decision. The mission doesn’t sound _that_ hard. 

In fact, it almost makes him wonder why he’s getting so much in return for such a small favour. 

 

"He struggles a lot, you know."

Chanyeol and Kyungsoo are a few steps behind Yixing as they make their way along the mountain pass, close together on the narrow pass. Kyungsoo's voice is low and close to Chanyeol's ear (closer to his shoulder), and he flinches. "What?"

"Xing. He struggles a lot. I know you noticed, because everyone notices. It's really obvious." 

Chanyeol hesitates, eyes on the yellow-haired man walking in front of them. "You mean the double personalities thing?"

Kyungsoo chuckles quietly. "Yeah. It's harder on him than it is on most people." He glances up at Chanyeol. "Having two identities."

"Are you talking about his real self versus his...game self?" Chanyeol asks, frowning. 

"Yeah. All of us—the people stuck in this game—we all have to deal with it, having two sets of memories and two warring personalities. But Yixing has a harder time than most. He's really...his real self isn't anything like his game self, and that makes it harder for him."

"Oh?"

Kyungsoo glances ahead at Yixing, but if the other man hears them, he makes no indication of it. "I met his character once, you know."

Chanyeol looks at him. "What do you mean?" 

"Before Yixing showed up. He had to replace someone, right? Once upon a time, before Yixing got sucked in, there was a plain old NPC in his place. I met him once."

"What was he like?"

"Angry," Kyungsoo says simply. "And violent. He was angry and violent and super suspicious and distrusting to boot. It matched his backstory, of course—passionate rebel who lost basically everything—but he couldn't be more different than Yixing in real life."

"Yeah," Chanyeol breathes, eyes flicking to the man in question, who strides ahead of them. "I can imagine."

"Yixing is...well, he's sensitive. Outside of the game, he's just your average guy, a pacifist, loves everyone. But in this game, he's killed people. He's seen people die. He has all these memories of fighting and death, and his cause is ingrained in him. He knows he should be angry and hateful and bitter. But it fights with his actual principles. It's hard for him. The things written into his script, his lines and his reactions, he struggles with them, because they go against his nature. Hence the dual personalities."

Chanyeol hums in understanding. "That sounds terrible," he sighs, eyebrows furrowing.

"It's something that all of us have a hard time with, but I think Yixing, more than anyone, struggles with remembering who he really is. He's been here a long time, almost as long as me, and the longer it goes on, the more difficult it gets. He really has to...fight for it. Just to retain his identity to some extent." Kyungsoo shakes his head sadly.

Chanyeol bites his lip, watching the head of yellow hair bob in front of them. He's only been here for a couple days—even if it feels like much longer—and he already feels like he's going a little loopy. He can't even imagine how difficult it must be for those who have been here much longer. He's not sure he wants to. 

But the atmosphere around them is suddenly oppressively grim, too quiet and too inherently unhappy, so Chanyeol steps up and does what he does best—he makes a sorry attempt to lighten the mood.

Jogging up to Yixing's side takes a second, and the other man startles when Chanyeol appears beside him, but Chanyeol just grins and holds an invisible mic to his mouth. "So, Yixing," he says in his best Interviewer Voice. "Where are you from?"

Yixing looks at him in surprise, but then a smile flickers across his face. He leans in to speak into Chanyeol's fist. "I'm originally from Changsha, China," he says. "My family moved to Korea when I was young, though, so my mother could have her second child. My sister."

"Ahh. Tell me about that."

Yixing laughs slightly, then begins talking about growing up as a Chinese boy in Korea, learning the language starting at age 4. As he speaks, Chanyeol feels something nudge his back, and he twists around to see Kyungsoo shooting him a small smile. Chanyeol grins back, then continues nodding along with Yixing's story about going to university in Seoul, and eventually becoming a physical therapist. Such a wildly different occupation than his in the game. Healing people, rather than hurting them. 

"So how long have you been here?" Chanyeol asks next, still speaking into his imaginary mic, gesturing to the mountains around them at large. 

"Oh, hmm. What year is it?" Yixing asks, frowning. 

"2019," Chanyeol says. "May. When I left, at least." He suddenly wonders how time is passing in real life.

"Oh." Yixing blinks for a moment. "Just about two years, then. I think I got here in June..."

Chanyeol hums, tries to keep his voice light and cheerful. If they're going to be stuck in this godforsaken game, they might as well be able to make a joke out of it. "So how do you feel about being sucked into a video game?" he asks brightly. 

Yixing answers in kind, pulling Chanyeol's fist over to speak into it, smiling. "It's pretty much the worst thing that's ever happened to me," he says. "Except maybe my sister dying."

Chanyeol's insides lurch immediately, his smile falling. "You lost your sister?" he asks quietly. 

Yixing is still pretending it's an interview, holding onto Chanyeol's wrist. "Yes. She died when I was 12. She had leukemia."

"I lost my dad when I was 9," Chanyeol says, voice soft and chest aching. "He was shot in action."

Yixing turns to look up at him. "Then you know."

They share a small smile, humourless but understanding. "Yes." 

Kyungsoo claps both of them on the shoulder suddenly, coming up behind them. "Eyes on the road, boys," he says, a forced note of cheer in his voice. "There are dangers ahead."

Yixing smiles at him. "Yes sir," he says. "I forgot who was in charge for a second there."

Kyungsoo laughs softly. "That's right. Less chitchat, more saving the world."

"But a little bit of chitchat," Chanyeol adds.

"A little," Kyungsoo concedes. "Keep it cheery, though."

"Yes sir," Chanyeol and Yixing say in unison, and they both chuckle.

This place is a hellhole, Chanyeol thinks, but at least it's not lonely.


	9. Chapter 9

Chanyeol meets his first Mountain SCAB a while later.

Kyungsoo told him that there would be some of them, but he'd all but forgotten about the possibility, in between dodging boulders and hiding from scouts and running into rebels. You would think that's enough danger for one place, but no, of course not. There has to be smallish robots hellbent on tearing him limb from limb as well.

To their credit, the Mountain SCABs aren't quite as troublesome as their grassland counterparts—or rather, they're largely just Level 1s, and don't come in large groups, like they had previously.

Mountain SCABs are fairly small and easy to kill, but unlike those in the plains, they hide themselves well and attack out of nowhere, leaping out of the rocks strewn around the path and slashing fearlessly at Chanyeol's legs before he even realizes what's happening. He sustains a number of injuries quickly, his HP dropping to 85%, but thankfully Yixing, unlike Kyungsoo, is able to help him beat them off. Chanyeol grins at him as the other man shoots SCABs with flawless aim as they try to amputate Chanyeol’s legs from under him, and they share a brief moment of camaraderie.

"No need to remind me of my uselessness," Kyungsoo says from behind them, as if reading his mind, and Chanyeol laughs as they destroy the final bot and are able to continue on.

It takes Chanyeol a few minutes to process how utterly unaffected he'd been by the attack. The fear had been real, the jolt of adrenaline and the panic and the pain had been real, but as soon as it's over, he's fine again, checking his HP, making sure his blaster gun doesn't need a new battery. That's almost scarier than anything.

Chanyeol thinks he might be becoming a monster.

From there on, the day falls into the same pattern as the one before; making progress through the pass, hiding from scouts flying overhead, dodging falling rocks, and now fighting off the odd murderous robot. The hiding aspect is easier now, thanks to Yixing's familiarity with the area, and Chanyeol is better now at knowing how best to dodge boulders hurtling towards him at top speed. But that doesn't make the overall experience any more enjoyable.

Chanyeol's HP is down to 46%, but his combat is up to 60 and his stealth is almost up to 50. He also belatedly realizes his knowledge is finally up to 30—he assumes this happened last night already, after the cutscene surrounding Yixing's past. 

He's busy thinking about how he can improve his defense stats when Yixing announces ahead of them, "The camp is coming up."

"Is it?" Chanyeol blinks in surprise. The clock inside his helmet visor flashes with the numbers 3:22. Have they been travelling for that long today already? (Scratch that—Kyungsoo reminds him frequently to pay as little attention as possible to the way time moves in the game.)

"Yes. Be careful now." Yixing turns to shoot him a glance—he's in character right now, face dark, eyes flashing with warning. Chanyeol nods earnestly. 

"There are a lot of scouts in this area," Kyungsoo murmurs from behind him. "It's dangerous, so be as quick as possible."

"Even after all this time, there is still leftover supplies around the camp," Yixing tells him, voice low. "I don't come here often, see. I check on it to make sure it hasn't been taken over or ransacked, but I don't like to stick around. It doesn't hold pleasant memories."

"I can imagine," Chanyeol says, following as Yixing veers off the path suddenly, down a smaller, almost-invisible pathway. They pick their way between boulders and scraggly shrubs carefully, with Kyungsoo bringing up the rear. Chanyeol wishes his guide was in front of him. He understands why Kyungsoo's in the back, why Chanyeol needs two shields and why he needs to be closer to Yixing, but that doesn't make him feel any better about not being able to see Kyungsoo, to feel his presence acutely. He wonders briefly if Kyungsoo would hold his hand if he asked, then shakes his head sharply to dispel the thought.

"There'll be seven tents still partly standing," Yixing tells him. "Check each one for supplies. There may be other, smaller goods scattered around the camp, and feel free to pick those up as well. You'll be permitted to take two of the larger items as payment for your help."

Chanyeol nods silently, even though he knows Yixing can't see him. He wants to get into the camp, get his stuff, and get out as quickly as possible. Chanyeol doesn't exactly have a great history with athletics, but he figures if he concentrates hard enough, and lets adrenaline guide him, he'll get by. Hopefully. 

"Your stealth is pretty high," Kyungsoo says suddenly behind him, patting his shoulder and making Chanyeol jump. "You probably won't get attacked."

"Probably?" Chanyeol says, not quite managing to keep the trepidation out of his voice.

"Maybe," Kyungsoo says, and that really doesn't help. "You stealth isn't _that_ high."

"Quit while you're ahead, Soo," Chanyeol groans.

"You'll be fine," Kyungsoo assures him, and even though Chanyeol knows he's just saying that, it still kind of helps. 

Maybe he just likes the way Kyungsoo's hand lingers on his shoulder. 

A moment later, after scrambling around and over a few large boulders, Yixing halts in front of him and holds up a hand to wave Chanyeol forward slowly. Kyungsoo comes up behind him, and they peer around the edge of a rocky outcropping into a small clearing.

Chanyeol recognizes the decimated rebel camp from the cutscene from the previous evening. It looks basically the same—largely destroyed, with tattered bits of red cloth fluttering in the slight breeze and small craters in the bedrock from gun blasts in between half-standing structures, faded from the sun. It looks like exactly what it is—an old war zone.

"I have to go in there?" Chanyeol asks, feeling queasy.

"I am _letting_ you go in there," Yixing corrects. "It's not a trap, Chanyeol. It's supposed to be repayment."

"It just looks scary," Chanyeol mutters.

"It's not that bad, I promise," Yixing tells him, offering him a reassuring smile.

"Now get in there," Kyungsoo urges. "No time to waste. This isn't a mission, but you might as well approach it like one. Don't hang around."

"Right." Chanyeol takes a deep breath. "Okay. Here I go."

"Good boy," Kyungsoo says, and claps him on the shoulder hard enough to propel him forward a surprised step.

Chanyeol’s investigation of the old rebel camp is rushed and tense. He feels like he can hear approaching scouts constantly, darting out of half-fallen tents to look at the sky and make sure he’s just imagining things. Yixing and Kyungsoo stay hidden by the rocks, mostly out of sight, and Chanyeol checks on them frequently as well. It’s not like they’ll abandon him here, but it’s still unnerving, suddenly being very alone in the middle of the mountains. 

As Yixing said, there are seven tents, and each of them have one obvious item inside of them. The first has a pack of HP boosts, each recovering 50%. Chanyeol nearly grabs it in glee, then remembers he can only take two things. He has to be methodical about this. The second tent has a black device that looks sort of like a single defibrillator paddle, and when Chanyeol picks it up and presses the small button on the handle, a blue shield materializes around it, much like how his sword works. The inside of Chanyeol’s helmet flashes white words at him, informing him that the shield would improve his defense stats by 20, and reduce his recovery time when he’s injured, so long as he uses it. 

The third tent, on the other hand, has an HP Upgrade, which will increase his max HP by 50%. Chanyeol realizes quickly that choosing just two items will not be easy. 

The fourth and fifth tents have stats boosters—one for combat, and one for stealth, both to bump up their respective stats by 20. The sixth tent contains a pack of blaster gun batteries. And the seventh has new pieces of armour to add to what Chanyeol already has; gauntlets, plates to cover his shoulders, lower abdomen and pelvis, and a new helmet. They’re a silvery-black, rather than the matte ones he has on now, and for a moment Chanyeol considers taking them just because they look cool (and also maybe because he wouldn’t mind something that covers his poor exposed groin). But no, he has to be strategic about his choices. 

The armour promises upgraded stealth and defense, both by 10, as well as a few other bonuses: additional pack space, an air filter, more information display, a better weapon target. It seems like an obvious choice. Chanyeol knows the improvements will all be helpful in the long run, so he takes it, buckling on his new pieces of armour and trading his helmets. The new one fits the same as the old, but the display is more advanced, and he can see how much more experience he needs to up his stats, which is useful. He’s satisfied with his choice, and he stows his old helmet in his pack. 

After that, though, Chanyeol is at a loss. He doesn’t have the time to sit back and rationalize each choice. He needs to pick one other item, and he needs to pick wisely, but he also needs to get out of here as soon as possible. The paranoia of being here in the open is killing him. 

He decides to pass up the stats boosters. Those are things he can potentially improve on his own. The batteries and HP boosters get passes as well. He can live without them. The HP Upgrade is tempting, though, as is the shield. 

Before he can make a decision, Chanyeol hears (or imagines he hears; he can’t be sure) the low hum of a scout aircraft, and he panics. “I don’t have enough hands for a shield,” he mutters out loud, then darts back to the third tent, grabbing the small black box on the floor and hightailing it out of there. 

“Loot, Chanyeol!” Kyungsoo calls from the rocks as Chanyeol comes careening out of the tent. Chanyeol is certain the humming sound is real now, and his pulse accelerates. “You have like forty seconds, make use of it!”

“Fuck,” Chanyeol says under his breath, looking around wildly. He’s been so focused on the tents that he forgot to even look around for things to pick up outside of them. He frantically tries to do so now, tries to spot something hidden in the rubble of the camp. There’s a green box peeking out from a pile of rocks, and Chanyeol darts over to snag it. He trips over a blue bag on his way, and he grabs that too, bundling them into his arms. The buzzing gets louder, and Chanyeol sprints back towards cover, nearly bowling over as he tries to scoop a purple packet into his hands without stopping. 

He all but wipes out as he swings around the corner of the outcropping, and Kyungsoo’s fingers close around his arm, dragging him to a fissure in the rock that they both squeeze into next to Yixing. It’s tight and cramped, but they fit, and the aircraft passes over them a few seconds later, ominously quiet. Chanyeol fights to catch his breath and relax. 

“You’re squashing me, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo says, his voice muffled against Chanyeol’s shoulder blade, and Chanyeol grins ruefully and eases himself back onto the path. 

His guides follow a moment later, looking him over. “You picked the armour,” Kyungsoo says with a nod. “Good choice.”

“And the HP thing,” Chanyeol tells him, juggling the items in his arms and hefting the black box. “Is that good?”

“Definitely not bad,” Yixing says, nodding approvingly. “What else did you pick up?” 

“I have no idea.” Chanyeol lays his other items on the ground. “Two 20% HP boosts and a General Stats Boost. What’s that?”

“The info should be on your visor,” Kyungsoo tells him, looking over his spoils. 

“Oh. Right.” Chanyeol picks up the purple parcel and blinks at the words that appear in front of his eyes. _Increases combat, defense & stealth exp by 50%._ “Does that mean I have a smaller way to go until I level up?”

“Yup,” Kyungsoo says shortly. “Take that and your upgrade and let’s go, Chanyeol.”

“Oh, right.” He opens both boxes and takes out the small vials inside, then flips up his visor and tosses back the bitter, clear liquid of the upgrade and the thick green sludge of the stats boost. He doesn’t feel any different, but when he flips his visor back down, his stats bars are fuller and his HP bar is longer, and that makes him feel marginally better. His defense, bolstered by both the armour upgrades and the stats boost, is up to 60, which is comforting, and his stealth and combat are on the high end of 50 and 60, respectively. “So now what?”

Kyungsoo and Yixing glance at each other. “Now we keep walking,” Yixing says, pointing down the path, and Chanyeol sighs. The work never ends. 

 

"Kyungsoo, it hurts."

"Stop whining, you big baby. They're just phantom pains."

Chanyeol tenderly rubs at his shoulder, which continues to ache dully despite his _injured_ timer having run out several minutes ago. "You wouldn't understand," he mumbles, quiet enough that Kyungsoo can't hear him. He's not _that_ mean. Then, louder, "I think the rockfalls and the SCAB attacks and scouts are getting more frequent. And more serious, in the case of the first two."

"More than likely," Kyungsoo says vaguely from behind him. "We're getting closer to the end of the pass."

"Are we really?" Chanyeol pulls out his map and clicks it on, staring at the blinking light that indicates where they are. They have a quarter of the mountain pass left until they reach the river on the other side of the range. "Are we going to have to sleep before we get there? It's 8:47 now. Just over an hour until nightfall, and then we're at risk."

"I know." Kyungsoo prods him in the back when Chanyeol pauses. "It'll be up to you. Time will move according to how close you are to the last place to sleep in the mountains. At that point, you can choose to stay the night there, or you can try to finish off the mountain range overnight."

"Oh. Alright." Chanyeol thinks for a moment, then cocks his head to the side. "How come you could tell me that? Isn't that considered deviating from your script or whatever?"

"I was deviating from my script, but I wasn't revealing information I wasn't supposed to. It's not that heavily enforced." Kyungsoo shrugs. Chanyeol is just happy he’s talking—Kyungsoo has been unusually and worryingly quiet all day, only speaking when it’s necessary. "I told you what I was supposed to, only in different words. I'll take creative liberty when I can get it. When freedom is limited, you take what you can get, you know?"

"Spoken like a true veteran," Yixing says with a slight laugh ahead of them. 

"Let's not talk about this," Kyungsoo says, voice just edging on sharp.

"Okay," Chanyeol agrees meekly. 

"Kyungsoo's right about the phantom pains, though," Yixing interjects. "As killable characters, the pain we feel when we're hit is very real, even if we heal quickly. But I think the lingering stuff is mostly psychological. Kind of like the exhaustion we feel at the end of the day, even if our HP is high."

"Oh." Chanyeol blinks, rubbing his shoulder again. "That's weird."

"Yeah. He's right about attacks being more frequent because we're getting close to the end of the level, too."

"Level?" The word surprises Chanyeol; he's never heard anyone referring to the _game_ having levels before. Characters, maybe, and monsters, but not the game itself. 

"Well, they're not _technically_ levels," Yixing concedes. “But Paran has five distinct terrains to get through. The plains were the first. These mountains are the second. They're kind of like levels, in a way." He shrugs. "If you think about it that way, it's easier to understand why things get more difficult the further along you get."

"Ah." Chanyeol chews on his lip. "What are the other three, then?" 

"That," Yixing says, turning to smile cryptically, "you'll just have to find out."

Chanyeol groans, then stops halfway when he hears the rattle of stone against stone. He's on his guard in an instant, holding his sword ready and swinging his head left and right to catch sight of his assailant.

Instead, he hears a laugh from behind him, and it’s a welcome sound. "Your reaction time is actually really impressive, Chanyeol. I thought you were going to take a swing at me."

Chanyeol turns around and scowls. "I thought I was about to be attacked."

Kyungsoo holds up his palms, eyebrows raised. "All I did was kick a rock."

"Yes, and it sounded very much like—"

"SCABs!" Yixing calls from ahead, and Chanyeol pivots quickly. There's a small group of them, dull grey robots with lumpy, boulder-like shells and razor-sharp legs. Their red eyes are small, making them hard to spot in the monotonous landscape.

"Bring it," Chanyeol says, sounding much more confident than he feels, heart pounding in his ears, breath coming fast. There are only six of them. It shouldn't scare him this much anymore. He's dealt with much worse, and without help.

But it seems, as he swings his sword at the first bot that lunges at him, that fighting for your life never does get less terrifying. Or at least not in the span of a couple days, regardless of how fast or slow they pass.

He and Yixing take care of the SCABs fairly quickly, Chanyeol with his sword and Yixing with his blaster, and it's over within a matter of a couple minutes. Panting and wincing at the wound he sustained just to the side of his right knee, Chanyeol checks his stats quickly. His combat experience went up by a couple percent, which is nice, but his HP is at 26%.

"You might want to take a boost," Kyungsoo comments as he passes by Chanyeol, giving him a cursory once-over. "This isn't a good time or place to be caught with low HP."

"Good point." Chanyeol flips up his visor and mops his brow briefly, then shrugs off his backpack and undoes the latches. "Xing, does your HP replenish itself automatically?"

"Yeah." Yixing scratches his neck contemplatively. "I think it's to make me hard to kill. I'm supposed to help you, you know, so if a hero tries to kill me, I don't go down easy. I've had a few attack me before, but Kyungsoo and I set them straight before they could do much damage."

Chanyeol nods. "That makes sense, I guess. So you don't, I dunno, regenerate if you get killed?"

Yixing grinds the toe of his boot against the rock beneath their feet. "Dunno," he says simply. "Don't really want to find out."

"He could just be replaced by the original character," Kyungsoo puts in. "We've never had it happen before, to our knowledge."

Chanyeol hums, looking into his backpack without really seeing anything. "Not knowing is almost scarier than—"

"Rockfall!" Kyungsoo says suddenly.

"Shit." Chanyeol closes his bag hastily and swings it onto his shoulders, bending his knees to get ready to jump out of the way.

He can already tell this is going to be a big one. It looks like there are hundreds of rocks hurtling towards him down the mountain face, heading straight for him, and Chanyeol's heart hammers as he flips down his visor and prepares to dodge them.

He starts out strong, ducking out of the way of a larger boulder and narrowly avoiding another, smaller one that follows in its wake. He pivots to dodge a third, sidesteps a fourth. He has a half a second to inhale deeply, then jumps, crouches, pivots—and gets hit in the stomach with a rock the size of a fist.

Despite his protective armour, Chanyeol wheezes in pain, trying to blink past reflexive tears to see the next of the rocks. He manages to avoid a couple, but his _injured_ timer is still blinking, and his movement is sluggish. That, combined with his blurred vision, results in a couple smaller hits to his arms and legs, and Chanyeol struggles to keep moving, keep his eyes open, keep dodging.

"Chanyeol," comes Kyungsoo's slightly nervous voice. "Your HP is getting low, watch it."

Chanyeol tries to—he really does—but something hard collides with his helmet, and Chanyeol feels dazed and rattled in combination with his injuries and his weakness due to low HP. He has to blink a couple times just to see his stats right in front of him—HP 12%. He groans in pain and frustration. He should be more scared, but he finds it hard to be when his head won't stop spinning.

"Chanyeol, _move!_ " Kyungsoo yells.

"I can't," Chanyeol grunts, dizzy and heavy-limbed. Something cracks across his knuckles, and he hisses, closing his eyes. Then something much larger and heavier hits him in the chest, and Chanyeol stumbles back, falling on his ass and blinking hazily. The rocks seem to have largely settled, but a few continue to fall around him, and there's something buzzing in his ears. He tries to say something, but all that comes out is a gasp. He tries to breathe, but his lungs are rebelling. The number 4 flashes next to his HP bar, now with just a sliver remaining. The buzzing in his ears gets louder.

There are hands around his arm. Strong hands, tugging. "Chanyeol, come on!" Kyungsoo's voice. Calling him. Pleading. "Chanyeol, _please,_ you have to move _right now._ "

"Can't," Chanyeol forces past rebellious lips. He draws a slow breath that hurts his aching ribs. "Wait."

"There are scouts coming," Kyungsoo says urgently. " _Scouts,_ Chanyeol. You need to move before they get here. You're almost out of HP for god's sake!"

That sparks a bit of panic in Chanyeol's chest, but he can't seem to act on it. Too tired. Too weak. He can't do anything. 

"Oh my god," Kyungsoo says, and the fear in his voice makes Chanyeol sad. He wants to help, but he can't. His blurry _injured_ timer blinks at him. 20 seconds left. "Oh my god, Chanyeol, come _on_. Don't you _dare_ die on me this early in the game. Don't you _dare_." Chanyeol feels the backpack being tugged off his back. "Yixing, help me dammit!"

"You know I can't do anything," Yixing spits. Hostile. Chanyeol wonders if his last memories will be of Yixing acting in character. Forgetting who he is. Or maybe becoming someone new?

"They're going to be here in a couple seconds." Chanyeol doesn't like the way Kyungsoo's voice wavers. His visor flips up, and Chanyeol blinks at Kyungsoo's face. The mouth of a glass bottle hits him in the nose. "Drink this. _Now._ "

Breath shuddering, Chanyeol tilts his chin up and does. The cool, bitter liquid makes him feel better almost instantly, his HP climbing 20%—in his haste, Kyungsoo hasn’t managed to grab one of Chanyeol’s two remaining 50% boosts. Just shy of a quarter of his HP isn't ideal, but it's better than practically dead, and Chanyeol blinks as his _injured_ timer reaches 0. Kyungsoo's face no longer swims in front of him, and Chanyeol still aches all over, but his head is cleared and— 

Oh god. The scouts.

He struggles to his feet, looking around wildly, but Kyungsoo shakes his head. "Too late, hero," he says, swallowing visibly. "Get ready for a fight."

"A fight?" Chanyeol gulps. The aircraft comes into view, black and foreboding, buzzing with a soft drone of noise. It stops above them, then begins to descend. 

"It's either that or get taken to jail or get killed yourself," Yixing says, stepping up with his blaster in hand. His face is dark and determined. "Sword up, hero."

A shiver courses through Chanyeol's body, but he instinctively raises his weapon, watching the aircraft approach them. "Am I going to die?"

"You'd better not," Kyungsoo says, and it sounds like a threat, as if Kyungsoo will bring him back to life and kill him again if he does.

"Just keep an eye on your HP," Yixing warns. "Don't take any unnecessary hits."

 _Great advice,_ Chanyeol wants to snap, but he keeps his mouth shut. This is no time to be touchy. To survive this, he and Yixing are going to have to work together.

“There’s going to be two scouts inside,” Yixing tells him as the craft lands, too quiet to be real. “They’re going to try to question you first, then try to arrest you, then kill you. Kill them first.”

“I’m resisting arrest?” Chanyeol blusters as the door to the craft opens with a hiss, twenty meters away.

“Of course you are. You’re a rebel. Now shoot!”

Chanyeol yelps, scrambling for his blaster gun as two scouts dressed in silver suits march out of the aircraft. “You told me to get my sword!” he objects, nearly dropping both his weapons in his haste. He tugs his blaster out of his holster and squeezes the trigger, watching it fire bursts of energy at the scouts that seem to be attempting to ask for his name and allegiance. 

“Why can’t we lie?” Chanyeol asks over the sound of guns firing. He feels like he’s shaking, but his hand is steady on his gun, his aim straight. He’s not sure if that’s because he’s part game data, or if it’s because he’s getting used to attacking and being under attack. 

“Because they won’t believe us,” Yixing yells back. He looks fearless and deadly, ducking out of the way of a first retaliation blast and then resuming his shooting. “Like this, they can’t report back to MAISS, but they’ll still send back alarm pings.”

“Send back what?”

“For god’s sake, Chanyeol, focus on not dying!”

As if to make a point, a rock explodes to Chanyeol’s left, and he jumps out of the way in a panic. The scouts barrel towards them despite the barrage of blasts, and Chanyeol tucks his blaster away to hold onto his sword with both hands. He meets them head-on, falling back a step as a blast clips his waist before taking a swing and hitting the scout closest to him. 

In Chanyeol’s experience, the only weapons humanoid robots carried were guns, which were pretty useless for close-range battle. Now, though, Chanyeol sees one of the scouts draw a blunt, club-like baton covered in jagged webs of electricity, and he knows this will be a very different combat experience. 

The scout swings its baton at him as soon as it’s in range, and Chanyeol lifts his sword to block to blow, hissing as the force of it jars his arms. He regrets not taking that shield now, but there’s no time to reflect on his decisions as he parries another blow and takes a step back to thrust the tip of his sword against the scout’s chest. Its HP drops slightly, and Chanyeol feels proud of himself for a split second. Then the baton clips his shoulder and the electricity zaps through him, rendering him paralysed for a moment. He’s nearly unable to block the next swing. 

Biting his lip to stifle a gasp of pain, Chanyeol checks his HP as quickly as he can. It only dropped by 2%, but it could have been worse if he hadn’t reacted quickly enough after the momentary paralyzation. Forcefully tamping down spikes of fear, he blocks another blow and then whips his blade around for a second hit, then quickly jumps back to give himself an extra second to prepare for the next strike. 

Hand-to-hand combat with an intelligent being is different from dodging gun blasts and fending off vicious SCABs. He has to anticipate attacks and react instantly, and he has to be incredibly vigilant, looking for an opportunity to strike. If he gets hit by the baton, he freezes up for a moment, and that could be the difference between life and death. He can’t let his guard down for a second. It’s fast-paced and strategic, and yet chaotic because Chanyeol feels like he has no idea what he’s doing, like he’s just swinging his sword around hoping not to get hit. It’s kind of like the boss battle back in the grasslands, on a smaller scale. 

Somehow, it’s no less terrifying. 

It simultaneously lasts forever and goes by in a blur of swinging weapons. Chanyeol watches the scout’s HP go down slowly, so slowly, but faster than his own. He doesn’t have time to check on Yixing’s progress with his own assailant, wrapped up in trying not to die, keeping all his attention on his own HP (down to 13%, he can’t keep taking hits, he can’t die) and the baton trying to drain his life. He has to try harder. He has to fight better. He has to be faster, react more quickly. He has to—

The scout in front of him collapses in a shower of silver pixels, and Chanyeol jumps back in shock. 

Yixing stands opposite him, gun raised. He lowers it slowly, jaw locked and eyes sharp, and then his expression melts into something much softer. “Okay, Chanyeol?”

Chanyeol gasps for breath, letting the tip of his sword hit the ground as his whole body slumps in exhaustion. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Yixing smiles, but it doesn’t look very happy. “No problem. Let’s get going, yeah? We don’t have much more ground to cover before nightfall, and then we’re crashing for the night. If we may.”

Chanyeol knows the decision is up to him, but he’s definitely not going to say no. He feels like he could sleep for days. “Definitely,” he mumbles, tugging off his helmet and rubbing a hand through his hair. He glances down at the suits at their feet, left over after the scouts’ bodies dissolved. “Should I be taking these?”

“Check your inventory, see if you even have room for them,” Kyungsoo says from behind him. 

Chanyeol does, feeling exhausted on multiple levels, and finds he only has room for one more item. He sighs and picks up the electrical baton, shoving it into his impossibly deep backpack and grabbing a 50% HP boost (which stack in his inventory, thankfully) to gulp down before setting off. “Lead the way, Xing.”

“You can drop items to pick up other ones,” Kyungsoo tells him, jogging to fall in step beside him. 

Chanyeol just waves him away tiredly. “Forget it,” he says. “I don’t care. I want to go to bed.”

Kyungsoo hesitates, then shrugs. “Alright then.”

They walk in silence for a few minutes, and then Chanyeol feels a tentative hand at his elbow. “You okay?” Kyungsoo asks softly. 

Chanyeol lets out a long, slow breath, tilting his head up to look at the vast sky above them. Now that the adrenaline of the fight is wearing off, he just feels tired and numb and strangely...alone. “I’m fine,” he says vaguely. Then, to fend off further inquiries, he adds, “But Yixing didn’t look very happy.”

Kyungsoo hums. “That’s programmed into him. The scouts are gone, but like he mentioned before, they sent warning pings back to MAISS. Which means MAISS knows they were attacked at this location. It’s going to be hard for him to stay hidden now.”

“Oh.” A vein of guilt runs through Chanyeol’s post-battle apathy, cold and sickening. “I’m sorry.”

“You couldn’t help it. He doesn’t blame you.” But Kyungsoo doesn’t look entirely convinced of that. 

“I’m a terrible hero,” Chanyeol mutters, kicking a loose rock a little harder than necessary. It doesn’t hurt, and that makes Chanyeol even more frustrated. If that doesn’t hurt, then why does everything else?

“Not by a long shot, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo says, bumping against him gently. 

It doesn’t really help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out this AMAZING piece of art Beste did for this fic!!!!!! It's been like 2 years and I'm still making heart eyes. [link!](https://twitter.com/Besternatexo/status/830217075859869696)


	10. Chapter 10

They reach the last cave before the end of the mountains unscathed, and they cover the remaining quarter of the path the following morning before noon with frequent but minor encounters with SCABs and a couple small injuries from rockfalls. Unlike the grasslands, which became increasingly dangerous as they reached the end of it, the final section of the mountains seem to be relatively mild. The SCABs are more plentiful, and the rocks are larger, but Chanyeol never really fears for his life (though that may be attributed to his frequent, paranoid usage of HP boosts). Chanyeol figures he suffered enough in this terrain already, and thus deserves the break. If he can call it that.

At last, though, they reach the end of the path, and Yixing turns to look at Chanyeol and Kyungsoo, face dark. "This is where I leave you.”

"Oh, right," Chanyeol says, as if he hasn't been reminding himself of that fact the entire day. He's gotten used to Yixing's presence, unpredictable as it may be, and he feels like a friend by this point. It'll hurt to leave him behind.

"The river, as you can see, runs past just over there," Yixing says, gesturing towards the open plains before them. Chanyeol isn't sure if the land slopes up or if it's something to do with video game graphics, but he can't see anything other than what might be rocky banks in the distance. "My friend travels the length of that river constantly, so finding him might be a bit of work. I'm trusting you to deliver this letter to him." He holds out the envelope to Chanyeol, who takes it and tucks it carefully into his backpack—the fact that he's used up all his 20% HP boosts and thus has room for it is a bit of a mixed blessing. 

"I'll do my best," Chanyeol tells him, nodding firmly. "Do you have any hints as to where he might be?" 

Yixing hums mildly. "Not really," he says. "But the bridge to cross the river is in that direction—" He gestures to their right, "—so he spends more time upstream. That's probably your best bet."

"Oh, okay." Chanyeol taps his thigh, fidgeting, maybe trying to drag this out a little. "Any other hints? Advice? Helpful gifts?"

Yixing laughs, face softening. "Actually, yes to gifts. Here." He digs into his leather satchel and pulls out a small, flat square—a microchip. "It's a map update. Not a great one, but it might help you out." 

Nodding vaguely, Chanyeol pulls out his holographic map and slides the chip into the tiny slot for it, then clicks it on. The map is slightly bigger now, and more detailed, showing the bridge to cross the river and the path they just came from, as well as a vast stretch of empty land on the other side of a river and a dot labelled _Ancora_ on the far edge of that, slightly off to the side. “Thanks,” Chanyeol says. 

Yixing takes in a deep breath, then lets it out slowly. “Well, Chanyeol. I guess this is goodbye then.”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says sadly. “Bye, Yixing. It was, er, nice knowing you.”

Yixing cracks a tired smile—it’s that same look Kyungsoo gets when he does something he’s already done too many times before. “Good luck,” he says. “Win for us, yeah?”

“I’m doing my best,” Chanyeol says solemnly. 

“Good man.” Yixing claps him heavily on the shoulder, then nods towards the river in the distance. “Now get going.”

“Bye, Yixing,” Kyungsoo says faintly, reaching out to clasp his arm and exchange a look that Chanyeol doesn’t understand before he goes. Chanyeol follows him dumbly, and when he looks back to wave one last time, Yixing has already disappeared from the path. 

“So,” Chanyeol says after moving for a minute in silence. “Just you and me again, huh.”

Kyungsoo snorts in response, glancing back at him. “Oh joy. I get you all to myself now.”

“Your favourite,” Chanyeol agrees. They fall quiet again, and Chanyeol realizes that they really haven’t talked since that night in Yixing’s cave. He wonders if that’s been intentional—if Kyungsoo’s been avoiding him. He wonders if he’s done something wrong. 

“So, Soo?” he asks, trying to keep his voice bright as he jogs to fall into step beside him. “How do you think I’m doing? I mean, other than that part where I almost died and also maybe ruined Yixing’s life.” He flushes a little with shame. 

Kyungsoo looks up at him briefly, and his smile is clearly forced. “Well, only eight other heroes have made it this far, so you’re not doing too badly for yourself.”

Chanyeol doesn’t particularly like the sound of those odds, but he takes Kyungsoo’s word for it. “So? Do you think I could make it to the end?”

Kyungsoo doesn’t look at him this time. “I really can’t say, Chanyeol.” 

“Oh. Okay.” Chanyeol slows his pace, falling behind again by a little. He’s getting the feeling Kyungsoo doesn’t really want to talk to him, and he’s not sure what to do about that, nor how to feel. He doesn’t want to be pushy, but at the same time, they only have each other. Maybe Kyungsoo is used to this—the silence, the solitude, the loneliness—but Chanyeol isn’t, and it’s hard for him not to cling. And he _likes_ Kyungsoo, really _likes_ him, his dry humour and his wit and the way he takes care of Chanyeol without even thinking about it. Chanyeol wants to talk to him. But he doesn’t know what to say. 

He’s almost relieved when they reach the edge of the river and he finally has a reason to speak and relevant questions to ask. 

“Ew, why is it so green?” 

Kyungsoo laughs slightly at his reaction, even as he looks at out the river with something like horror. “Unreal, right? It’s from pollution, from the war. Contaminated the main river running through the country. Dictator keeps saying he’s going to clean it up, but it hasn’t happened yet.” 

“This is disgusting,” Chanyeol says, making a face as he crouches down among the rocks on the bank of the water. “Hey, regardless of when and where we find Yixing’s Boatman, we’ll have to cross this river somehow, won’t we?”

Kyungsoo hums in affirmation, standing a ways behind him. “Eventually.”

“I was thinking we would just, like, swim across it, but now that I’m looking at it…”

Kyungsoo scoffs. “Wanna try it?”

“Uh. Not really. Should I?”

“No, definitely not,” Kyungsoo says. “Unless you want to have nothing but your bones left of you. There was a lot of chemical weaponry used during the war, it’s extremely toxic. This stuff would melt the skin right off you. Anything organic, really.” He sounds disgusted.

“Oh. Wow. Okay. Never mind, then.” Chanyeol stumbles back a few steps. “How _do_ you get across, then?”

“You’ll figure it out as we go along,” Kyungsoo assures him. 

“Right. For now...finding Boatman.” Chanyeol nods. 

“That’s the plan,” Kyungsoo agrees, and he turns away from Chanyeol, but not before Chanyeol sees his face fall into something darker. It’s worrying, but again, Chanyeol says nothing. 

With little else to do, they strike out in the direction Yixing had indicated, away from the bridge that Chanyeol can’t see. And then they just...search. Kyungsoo tells him that on the other side of the screen, he’d be able to fast-forward during this section, since all they’re doing is walking along the river and looking for a boat, but since that’s not an option, they just walk. And walk. And walk. For what feels like _hours_ , largely without conversation, and Chanyeol’s feet never hurt and he never gets physically tired because he’s not fighting anything but he thinks he’s going to go _crazy_. Time is passing oddly, and Chanyeol has no idea how long it’s been since they left Yixing, although his clock says it’s 7pm. He goes into a sort of daze, walking and looking and letting his thoughts wander. 

They don’t necessarily wander to good things, but they’re not all bad, either. He tries to stay away from thoughts that will make him panic, like his family back home and whether or not he’ll ever see them again and what happened to all those other heroes before him. Instead, he thinks about what he knows about the game story’s plotline, and he thinks about the fact that he hasn’t properly eaten or drank anything in several days (how many days has it been? Five?) and the blurry lines between being real and being a game character. He thinks about what parts of his life are lifelike and which aren’t—the pain and the loneliness and the fear, versus the healing and the never getting tired and the physical capabilities. 

He thinks about if he would ever— _will_ ever—get used to it. He wonders what Kyungsoo would say if he asked him, but then keeps his mouth shut. He thinks about his sense of time, and compares that to how long he’s known Kyungsoo. He knows it’s only been a handful of days since he arrived, technically, but it feels like much longer than that. And yet he still feels like he knows so little about his guide. His _friend_. He thinks they’re friends. 

He watches Kyungsoo throughout the day, too, worried. He’s never seen his guide look so unsettled, so frigid, not for so long. It scares Chanyeol. If something were wrong, Kyungsoo would tell him, right? Is something going to happen that Kyungsoo can’t tell Chanyeol about? His continued silence is nerve-wracking, and Chanyeol isn’t sure whether he should think about that _more_ or _less._

Just as dusk begins to fall, they come across the first sign of civilization they’ve seen since the decimated rebel camp. It’s a fenced-in little area, topped with wicked barbed wire, and inside are rickety old structures and machines that are clearly rusting and falling apart, many half-covered with dirty, ripped tarps. “What is it?” Chanyeol asks, too scared to draw too close. 

“An old army camp,” Kyungsoo says. It’s the first time Chanyeol’s heard his voice in hours. “See the blue symbols on some things? It’s from the old government’s side, the Ruling Party at the time of the war. Obviously, it got taken over eventually by the Opposing Party, but the camp is abandoned now.” 

“Safe to go in?” Chanyeol asks warily. “It’s almost nightfall.”

Kyungsoo hums. “I guess you should go check.”

Chanyeol groans. He’d been hoping for a straight answer for once, but he supposes he can’t get that lucky. 

He has to use his sword to cleave through the chainlink fence, which is no longer electrically charged post-war, but he gets in easily enough and finds nothing dangerous on the other side. Nothing has tried to kill him since the mountains; it’s been relaxing, even if he’s been on edge all the same. Still, he searches the camp thoroughly, sword ready in his hand, to make sure nothing is about to jump out and attack him. 

He finds nothing, apart from a lot of useless trash, old machinery parts, a single mostly-standing structure with a half moon above the door, and a small, two-seater aircraft with grimy windows and a key in the ignition. 

“Can I fly this thing?” Chanyeol asks, peering into the cockpit with interest. “That would be, like, extraordinarily helpful. Can I fly it over the river?”

Kyungsoo looks up at him, face blank. “You’d have to find a couple missing parts,” he says vaguely. 

Chanyeol’s fingers drum against his leg frenetically. “But I could do it, right? It’s a possibility? It’s a way to get across? It wouldn’t be here if it weren’t.” 

“You’re right,” Kyungsoo admits. “It’s...well, it’s a _possibility_ , technically speaking.”

Chanyeol looks back at him. “You don’t sound enthusiastic.” He hasn’t sounded very enthusiastic all day, but Chanyeol has learned to be sensitive towards these things. 

Now, Kyungsoo’s face is dark. “I’m not,” he says. “Flying is dangerous.”

“Is it? Why?”

“Well, firstly, because it’s entirely possible that it would set off alarm pings. You never know _what_ the government is all tracking.” Chanyeol has the feeling Kyungsoo is scripted to warn him of that. But right after, he says, “And also because the controls are...next to impossible.”

“Are they?” Chanyeol chews on his lip, looking into the cockpit again and seeing a plethora of buttons, switches, levers, and a hundred other things he isn’t sure what to do with. “But in the game, wouldn’t they be—”

“Playing the game, they’re pretty straightforward. I give you a set of instructions before you take off, and they’re fairly easy to follow, I would assume. Not a walk in the park, but doable. _Inside_ the game, though, they got fucked up. Everything is way, way more complex. You literally have to fly a futuristic aircraft. I’m warning you now: do not fly unless you absolutely have to, because it’s next to impossible in my limited experience.”

Chanyeol swallows hard. “Okay,” he says meekly, climbing down from the machine. “But this is still a place we can stay, right? When night falls?”

Kyungsoo nods his agreement. “Yeah, we can. But until then, keep searching?”

“Yeah. Right. Boatman.” Chanyeol had nearly forgotten. 

They set out again for the remainder of the evening, not straying too far from the camp because they want to be able to return if darkness falls quickly, and they see neither hide nor hair of Yixing’s elusive Boatman. If they reach the end of the river without finding him, they’ll have to walk all the way back to search in the opposite direction. 

The sun disappears below the horizon, and they don’t find him. Chanyeol sighs wearily, glancing at Kyungsoo for guidance, but finds the other man staring out at the sickly green water of the river, his face hard and dark once again. 

He tries to ignore that look, because he doubts Kyungsoo wants to or is able to tell him anything about it, but when they arrive back at the army camp and make themselves as comfortable as is possible among the wreckage, he can’t stand it any longer. He hasn’t talked to anyone properly in what feels like _ages_ and it’s starting to get to him, and Kyungsoo is acting strangely, and it’s scary. “Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol says, visibly startling his guide as he stares out the door of their hiding place, out at the river. “Is something wrong?”

“What?” Kyungsoo asks, looking surprised by the question. 

Chanyeol frowns. “You’ve barely spoken all day, and you look sick to your stomach half the time. Is everything okay? You can tell me, you know, as long as it’s not against the rules.”

Kyungsoo looks at him for a long, heavy moment, then back out at the river. Slowly, he says, “I’ve been feeling kind of messed up recently.”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol agrees. “I’ve noticed. And that’s okay, you know?”

Kyungsoo chuckles softly, humorlessly. “I mean, I’m always messed up, but. I’ve been feeling it worse than usual.”

Chanyeol shifts closer to him, turning to study his face, washed in faint moonlight. “Any idea why?” he asks gently, not wanting to push. 

It takes Kyungsoo a moment to answer. “A few reasons,” he eventually admits. “But the main thing right now… Just… This is how far one of my most recent heroes made it.” He looks up at Chanyeol briefly, then away. “Four heroes ago. Every time I guide someone through this game, it’s hard. But that one. That one was probably my worst.”

Chanyeol swallows thickly, heart already clenching in anticipation of what Kyungsoo’s about to say. 

“This river, I’ve always hated it,” Kyungsoo admits. “I’d lost another hero here before, trying to fly over in that fucking aircraft.” He shoots Chanyeol a meaningful look. “But now it’s worse. That fourth-last hero… He really had a hard time with things. You think this game has fucked you up, _I_ think this game has fucked me up, but that kid just...could not handle it. He was young, he was 17. And he couldn’t do it anymore. I tried so hard with him, he was doing so well, but he couldn’t do it anymore. I made it this far with him. We talked about...about the game, and how we didn’t know if we’d ever get out, even if we won, and he said he was scared, and he was tired, and he was having panic attacks every time he killed something, and he cried in the mornings when he woke up because he just wanted to be done.” Kyungsoo pauses, sucks in a deep breath. “And he jumped into the river.”

Chanyeol stares at him, in shock and sick revulsion. He’s trembling, and he realizes that Kyungsoo is trembling even harder. “Soo…”

“And the sickest thing is, I wanted to join him. I was so shocked, and so _destroyed_ , but I saw him go under and I wanted to jump, too. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it. Just like I couldn’t help him.” A shudder runs through his body, so violent that Chanyeol almost thinks it’s a seizure. “And then the game reset, and I was back in Hath, and it was so _awful_ , Chanyeol. I never wanted to see this river again. But I had to, two heroes later. And it was torture. It was so fucking bad. And now here I am again.”

“Oh, god, Soo. I’m sorry.” Chanyeol doesn’t know what else to say. “I’m so sorry.”

Abruptly, Kyungsoo looks disgusted with himself. “Whatever,” he spits. “It’s over, so… And I’m still alive. And I have to help _you_ stay alive. While I can. So let’s just go to bed.”

“Soo—” Chanyeol says again, reaching out for him, but Kyungsoo is moving away in an instant, moving towards his bed and pulling his blanket over himself. It’s blatantly clear that he doesn’t want comfort tonight. It hurts Chanyeol twice as much, but he understands, in a way. Not every grieving, hurting person wants to be held. “I’m sorry,” he whispers anyway. 

“Go to bed, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo says gruffly, turned away from him. “Goodnight.” 

Heart aching, stomach rolling, Chanyeol does. But that doesn’t mean he has an easy time falling asleep. 

 

He wakes up to the sound of metal screeching and Kyungsoo swearing. Chanyeol’s eyes snap open and his heart lurches into a frenzied hammering against his ribs, and he rolls onto his feet in the half-light, scrabbling for his sword as he feels a blow to his unprotected head, which spins and throbs. He’d taken off all of his bulky armour to sleep, he hadn’t kept his sword ready in his hand, he’s exposed and unprotected, he’s a fucking _idiot_. Something slashes at his hip, and he swears, blinking away the stars swirling behind his eyelids and the tears welling up from the shocking pain. 

His sword is at his hip, but his hand closes around his ECD first, and he doesn’t have time to make another grab. Unclipping the device from his belt, he swings it hard, crashing it down on the head of the creature attacking him in the darkness. He can’t really see anything apart from glowing yellow eyes, two pairs of them, but that’s enough. His hand throbs with pain from harsh contact with hard metal, but all he does is kick out at something that connects with his legs and swing his arm again, scrabbling at his waist with the other. His sword comes loose from its clip, but Chanyeol’s frantic fingers fumble and drop it. He swears again, louder this time, and feels sharp blades pierce his skin at the back of his thigh. 

Fear sets in then, cold and consuming. He can’t take the time to look at his HP without his helmet on. He’s unarmed for close combat—his only other equipped weapon is his blaster gun, and that’ll be difficult to use at this range. He has no idea how much HP he’s losing and how quickly, and he’s tearing up with white-hot pain and he can feel blood trickling down his legs, and he’s scared. 

But desperation, Chanyeol has learned, is a fantastic motivator. He can see dark, yellow-eyed shapes moving around the room, and he slams his ECD into the first one that lunges at him. He’s terrified, close to throwing up, and slowly going numb. He gets his blaster gun unholstered and fires it wildly, and that keeps his attackers off long enough for him to drop to the floor and scramble for his sword. He takes another hit before he can activate it, but it’s worth it, because the next second he’s swinging around its familiar blue blade, comforting in its weight and power. 

The sword is much, much more effective than using his ECD as a makeshift weapon. He lobs the latter towards the wall, figuring it’ll be fine on the floor, and faces his assailants with new determination. He’s still unprotected, wearing nothing but his starting armour, without even his boots on his feet or his gloves to protect his hands, but the monsters’ HP bars flicker in the darkness, and he can see them drop steadily as he stabs and lunges. 

It’s a frenzied battle, painful and bloody and chaotic, but it ends with two monsters bursting into pixels, and Chanyeol collapses, feeling the true extent of his pain seep into him. He almost passes out, vision hazing. 

“Holy fucking shit,” Kyungsoo says, and Chanyeol feels himself come back to full consciousness. “I think my heart stopped beating.”

Chanyeol laughs breathlessly, looking at his hands as he struggles to his feet in a sort of daze. There’s blood dripping from his fingertips, and he’s positive several of his fingers are broken. “I kind of want to pretend that never happened.”

“Have you learned your lesson about being prepared?” Kyungsoo asks, and his voice is unsteady. 

“Definitely.” Limping around the room carefully, Chanyeol finds his helmet and tugs it on. His stats flash at him—his combat has risen to 70, but his defense is down, because he’s not wearing his armour, and his _injured_ timer is over a minute long. But what glares at him the brightest is his HP, which hovers at 18. It’d dropped 82% during this one fight. Too close. 

“Are you okay?” Kyungsoo asks, looking him over in the half-light. Chanyeol knows he’s a torn, bloodied mess. His hands are enough—he doesn’t want to see the rest. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Chanyeol sort of lies. “Adrenaline and all. I’m gonna sleep it off.” His clock shows that it’s just past 5am, two hours before he usually wakes up. 

“You can’t,” Kyungsoo says, Chanyeol’s heart sinks. “If you go to bed after 4 in the morning, you’ll wake up the next morning instead of a few hours later. That puts you at risk for twenty-six hours.”

“Oh, great.” Chanyeol gathers the scattered pieces of his armour and pulls it on, wincing as it presses against his slowly healing wounds. “So I can’t recuperate?”

Kyungsoo frowns, shaking his head. “No. Take a boost, your HP is low.”

“I _know_ ,” Chanyeol says, feeling snappier than usual, in pain and crashing post-adrenaline rush. “This is my last one.” He finds his pack and pulls out his only remaining HP boost—a 50% one, thankfully—and promptly drains it. 

Kyungsoo visibly winces in the low light, but all he says is, “Then you’ll have to be careful until we reach another town.” 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says gruffly as he sits down gingerly against the wall, feeling better as his HP crawls back up to 68. Not even three-quarters, but it’ll do for now. It’ll have to. 

It’s quiet for a few moments, and neither of them moves 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” comes Kyungsoo’s soft voice from the other side of the room. Chanyeol looks at him, and Kyungsoo stares right back, round eyes blinking slowly. “I thought I was going to lose you for a second there.”

Chanyeol swallows hard. “Not that easy to get rid of me.” 

Kyungsoo’s lips quirk up in a smile, and it’s not much, but it’s something.

Eventually, all of Chanyeol’s wounds heal and the blood splattered across his skin evaporates, and apart from some psychosomatic aches and pains and a bone-deep weariness, he’s in perfectly good health. Dawn is just rising, and the sky lightens bit by bit, and eventually Chanyeol realizes he has nothing to wait for and he gets to his feet, wincing slightly. He’s used to starting the day off with plenty of energy to spare, but with his mess of a morning, he’s feeling exhausted before he even begins. But alas, there’s nothing else for him to do. 

“This is the absolute most boring part of this game so far,” Chanyeol tells Kyungsoo as they strike out for the day, going over much of the same land they had the evening before. There isn’t much more of the river left on this side of the mountain pass—or at least, they’re almost to the edge of the map, and Chanyeol isn’t sure what’s past there—but after that they have to turn around and backtrack the entire area they covered the previous day, which Chanyeol is dreading. 

“There are about a dozen side quests you could be doing at the same time right now,” Kyungsoo informs him, trudging along beside him. “You just so happened to turn down or not talk to every person who would have given them to you.” 

“Really?” Chanyeol makes a face—maybe he should have taken one or two after all. “Like what?”

Kyungsoo shrugs vaguely. “I know there’s one about collecting samples of river water, and one about tagging patrol boats, which won’t show up since you didn’t talk to that person.” Chanyeol is grateful for that, at least. “Since you turned down every mission, none of them are showing up, which is why this stretch of land is so boring. Barely any dangers, because you’re reaping zero rewards.”

Chanyeol brushes his fingers across the back of his thigh, where he’d acquired the worst of his injuries that morning. “I think I recall a danger or two,” he says grouchily. 

“There was a half moon on the door. You should have expected that,” Kyungsoo tells him, sniffing. 

Chanyeol just huffs, but he casts Kyungsoo a few appraising glances while he’s at it. He looks...well, better than he had last night, at least. His face is blank and unfeeling, and while Chanyeol is sure it’s nothing more than a mask, at least he has the willpower to keep it up. Or maybe he’s just numb. Chanyeol isn’t about to ask. 

Chanyeol has experience with loss and trauma—more than most people, to be honest—but he knows his father’s death affected him differently, more severely, because he’d been a kid at the time, and a sensitive one at that. He has no idea how to handle it in adults. To be fair, he doesn’t even know how to handle it in himself. Deep breaths and distracting thoughts?

He spends the entirety of the morning trying to think of something distracting to say to Kyungsoo that won’t be an obvious attempt at averting his attention, and comes up with nothing. When Chanyeol has questions, he asks them, but only when they’re relevant to the game, and only when he thinks they won’t make Kyungsoo snap at him. He spends most of his time watching the toxic green waters of the river and staying alert in case of anymore surprise attacks, and even though the near-silence drives him crazy, there’s nothing else for them to do. 

They reach the edge of the map just after noon, and it’s all very anticlimactic. Chanyeol had been expecting some sort of dramatic drop into nothingness, or maybe a mysterious fog, but it’s just an invisible wall that keeps him from going any further, and slightly hazy scenery beyond that. With a heavy sigh, Chanyeol turns around and starts walking back the way they came, with Kyungsoo trailing along behind him. 

Time seems to move faster today than it had the day before, but it’s still almost 8:00 by the time they reach the abandoned army camp again. “That’s it,” Chanyeol says, shaking his head tiredly. “We’re going to bed. I don’t want to walk anymore today, and I don’t want to _look_ anymore today, and if Yixing’s Boatman doesn’t show up soon, I swear to god I’m going to take this fucking ship and fly across the river without delivering this letter. It’s his own fault for being too hard to find.”

Kyungsoo stares at him quietly. “Are you finished?” he asks when Chanyeol ends his rant. 

Chanyeol flips up his visor and blows at his fringe. “Yes.”

“Then let’s go to bed. You didn’t lose any HP today, so good on that, but you’re right, you might as well sleep now and start fresh tomorrow. If you don’t get attacked again, that is.”

“I hate this game,” Chanyeol says, and he’s said it so many times already that he can’t even muster any real bite. 

“I know,” Kyungsoo replies anyway, and they make their way back to the room they’d slept in the night before. 

 

Chanyeol wears all his bulky, uncomfortable armour that night, and maybe that’s why he makes it through the night without being visited, or maybe it’s just luck, but in any case, he wakes up feeling much better than he had the day before. It’s enough to make him feel somewhat more optimistic about this whole mission, and they take off for the day, this time heading _for_ the bridge with the whole day in front of them. 

They make it just past where they started following the mountain pass before they spot an old, rusty watercraft bobbing in the distance, and it’s a matter of seconds after Chanyeol lobs a rock at the hull that there’s a gun pointing at his forehead. “Who are you?” a voice barks. 

Chanyeol freezes up, breath catching in his throat. “Chanyeol,” he says automatically. Then, “You’re Yixing’s Boatman, aren’t you?”

There’s an ominous _click_ , and Chanyeol’s heart skips a terrified beat, but then the gun lowers slightly and Chanyeol gets a look at the man’s face. _Definitely_ Yixing’s Boatman. “Yixing sent you?” the man asks. He has the same platinum blond hair Chanyeol remembers from Yixing’s flashback and, more importantly, no speaking options. Real, then. Chanyeol hadn’t even thought to ask before now. 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says quickly. “I’m delivering a letter.” His heart is still rabbiting in his chest. “What is it with you guys and holding people at gunpoint?”

The man laughs darkly. “It’s something you learn when you’re working for the wrong side,” he says, looking Chanyeol up and down. His voice is softer when he says, “Hello again, Kyungsoo.”

“Hello, Joonmyun,” Kyungsoo says, stepping forward and cracking a smile. “Nice seeing you again.”

“Always a pleasure,” the man—Joonmyun—says, shooting him a humorless smile in return. 

“I have a letter for you,” Chanyeol reminds him. “You’ll have to come down here or let us up there if you want it.”

Joonmyun scoffs. “You’re kind of bossy for a courier.”

Chanyeol grins right back. “You’re kind of young and handsome for a hardened rebel smuggler.” 

A more genuine smile breaks out across Joonmyun’s face, boyish and bright. “Hear that, Kyungsoo? He thinks I’m handsome.” Then he adds, “And I’m a rebel _ally_ , actually. I don’t have the red. And I’m a messenger, not a smuggler. Kind of.”

“Whatever you say, Han Solo,” Chanyeol says, wiggling his eyebrows, and Joonmyun laughs. It’s unexpectedly wonderful to have someone laughing at Chanyeol’s jokes again, someone _talking_ to him again. He feels a little guilty, thinking so when Kyungsoo can hardly help the mood he’s in, but he’s still ridiculously pleased to see a smiling face again. 

Kyungsoo himself looks only half a step above grim, even as Joonmyun joins them on the rocky riverbank and shakes their hands (flashing his stats at them: ridiculously high combat and stealth, low knowledge and defense).

Chanyeol hands over the letter a moment later, and Joonmyun opens it immediately, sliding out a single piece of paper and reading over it quickly. His face doesn’t change, but afterwards he replaces the paper and tucks the whole thing into his shirt, close to his heart. It’s obvious that he intends to keep it safe. 

“So,” Joonmyun says, hand lingering over the front of his shirt. He’s dressed in unassuming shades of brown, nothing flashy, nothing that would ever draw attention to him. “Is that all you wanted with me?”

Chanyeol blinks at him. “Uh…” He squints. “Maybe?”

“If that’s all, then I’d better get going,” Joonmyun tells him. “I’m always moving. Can never be too safe in these parts.” It’s clear that Joonmyun’s character is supposed to be gruff and businesslike, but he obviously doesn’t struggle with the dual personalities as much as Yixing does. Chanyeol suddenly wonders how much of Kyungsoo’s personality is his own. 

Then Joonmyun’s words hit him and Chanyeol straightens immediately. “Wait!” he says, mind whirring. “You can’t leave yet, I just met you!”

Joonmyun lifts his eyebrows at him. “Did you need something else? I thought you just needed to deliver the letter for Yixing.”

“No, no, I definitely need you for...something. A real person wouldn’t be given your role if it was so meaningless.” Chanyeol looks at Kyungsoo for affirmation, and is thoroughly warmed by the look of pride on his guide’s face. “Right. So. I need to...ask you something?”

Joonmyun rolls his shoulders, glancing up and down the river. “Well, I haven’t got all day.”

“Can you, um, tell me about yourself? Or something?” Chanyeol asks, scrambling for the right questions to ask. Not for the first time, he curses his lack of speech options. 

Joonmyun hums. “Not really. There was steady work in taking goods across the river that weren’t necessarily supposed to get there, and I had a boat. It seemed like the most reasonable course of action, unless I wanted to join the Blue or the Black Armies, which I didn’t.” 

Chanyeol taps his fingers against his armoured thighs, trying to think fast. “Why is Yixing sending you letters?” 

“We worked together for several months,” Joonmyun says. “Is he not permitted to send things to or through me?”

“I was just asking,” Chanyeol grumps. “Do you know anything about the current government? The Black Army?”

“Not really. Lots of robots. Do a shit job of ruling the country. I don’t want anything to do with them.”

Chanyeol sighs dramatically. He _knows_ there’s something he should be asking Joonmyun. He wouldn’t be placed in Chanyeol’s path, a _real character_ , just to have a letter handed to him. It doesn’t make sense. But it’s clear that his knowledge is minimal—there must be something else that he has that Chanyeol doesn’t. 

He’s about to ask if he can buy any HP boosters off him when he catches sight of the boat rocking in the corrosive water behind Joonmyun. A boat. Joonmyun has a boat. 

“You have a boat,” Chanyeol says. 

Joonmyun quirks an eyebrow at him. “Yes I do.”

“And we need to get across the river.” Chanyeol begins to smile. “Would you mind letting us hitch a ride across?”

Joonmyun blinks. “Yes. I would, actually.”

“What?” Chanyeol’s face falls—he’d been sure he was right. “Why?”

“Because it’s illegal. It’s one thing to get caught delivering slightly suspicious letters and goods across the river; it’s another thing entirely to be caught with rebel fugitives. I’d be executed for treason.” Joonmyun shrugs. “It’s not worth the risk.”

“But how else am I supposed to get across?” Chanyeol asks. “The bridge?”

“Dangerous,” Kyungsoo tells him immediately. “You’d get searched and carded.”

“Exactly. Which is why I want to take Joonmyun’s boat.” Chanyeol chews on his lip. “Please? It’s just one little trip. I can pay you? A little?” 

“I don’t need your money,” Joonmyun says. “It’s still not worth it.”

Chanyeol lets out a heavy, frustrated breath. “Well what _would_ make it worth it for you? Name your price.”

Joonmyun actually stops and seems to think about it. He glances back at his boat, which rocks a little more violently than it should from the current. “Hmm,” he says. “Well.”

“What?”

A slow smile spreads across Joonmyun’s face. “There’s this gigantic river monster that’s been terrorizing me and my boat for months. I’d like to get rid of it. If you can do that for me, then sure, I’ll take you across the river. You _and_ your guide.”

Chanyeol gulps, suddenly feeling much less brave. He glances at Kyungsoo, whose face gives away nothing. “A...river monster?”

Joonmyun nods. “Awful thing. Huge, with sharp teeth and a fondness for splashing acid water at you.”

Chanyeol blanches. “And this would be...less dangerous than the bridge or the aircraft?”

Joonmyun doesn’t answer, and Kyungsoo just shrugs. 

Chanyeol faces the water again, where the boat continues to bob dangerously. He has the feeling this is the equivalent of the level boss, and his last experience with that hadn’t been particularly enjoyable. But it doesn’t look like he has much of a choice. “Well,” he says, tucking away his sword and pulling out his spare blaster gun for his free hand. “Might as well give it a go, right?”


	11. Chapter 11

Chanyeol’s first thought when the river monster rises up from the depths of the murky green water is that it looks bizarrely like a more realistic, more terrifying version of Gyarados. Its enormous head breaks the surface of the water, all armoured black-green scales and shining yellow eyes and sharp fangs lining its gigantic maw, and the resemblance is striking. It makes a deafening sound between a roar and a shriek, and Chanyeol’s panicking mind happily supplies him with the question, _“I wonder if they had to deal with copyright issues because of this?”_

Chanyeol really had not been mentally prepared for this battle. That's kind of why he had done it this way—just jumped right into it without giving himself time to think twice or doubt himself—but now he realizes that he should have at least thought about upping his stats first, or thinking of a strategy. Instead, his heart rabbits frantically and his vision blurs a little because it hits him that he could very well die in the next couple of minutes because he didn't think this through before agreeing to this battle. He realizes this is probably the equivalent of a level boss, being at the end of the mountains and all, and his combat stats are only at 70. Twenty higher than they had been when he fought the last boss and barely survived. 

Chanyeol may have just made a terrible mistake. 

Unfortunately, however, he doesn't have the option of taking it back and deciding if this is really the best idea. A moment after he had agreed to this deal, Joonmyun had stirred the water with a few well-aimed blaster shots, and up came this thing, this humongous Gyarados of a creature, whipping the end of its thick tail to splash acrid green water at Chanyeol. 

He knows now how lucky he is to have chosen the armour in Yixing's rebel camp. The water hits him—he can't avoid it without a shield, not unless he turns tail and runs—but it rolls off his breastplate and visor, sizzling gently upon contact but barely lowering his HP. Chanyeol takes this in, his mounting fear causing him to see everything in a sort of faraway light, and then lifts his double blaster guns and squeezes both triggers. 

He can tell already that this is going to be a long, arduous battle. The river monster roars in pain at being hit and dives back under the water, tail fins slapping the surface to send another spray in Chanyeol's direction, and Chanyeol has to fire blindly into the water to coax it back out so he can shoot again. His HP drops slowly; so does the monster's. He gets in six or seven shots before the monster shrieks and lunges, clearly trying to snap Chanyeol's body in half with its huge jaws, and Chanyeol has to dive out of the way in a panic, barely escaping before it slithers back into the river. 

For the first time, he's grateful for the mountain's rockfalls, for preparing him for these dodges. 

He quickly falls into this messy, heart-pounding rhythm—coax, shoot, dodge, get splashed, recover, coax, dodge, shoot, get splashed, do it again. He can't let his guard down, of course, but he feels strangely detached from the whole thing, like he's watching it happen from afar. Water is seeping in through the cracks in his armour, burning, blistering his skin, but it feels muted somehow, like he's not fully conscious. He feels like it's a slow race, seeing whose HP will bottom out first, his or the monster's. Right now, Chanyeol is winning, with his bar nearly 40% full, but that'll only last as long as he stays alert and focused.

It's hard to stay focused, though, when he feels like his brain is somewhere else, in some sort of misguided attempt at staying sane. He has that same feeling he always got in middle school when he had to give a speech in front of class—instead of using all his brain power to make sure he did a good job, his mind would wander to what he'd be having for dinner that night, and whether his hoodie was clean to wear the next day, acting entirely on autopilot in an act of self-preservation. 

Just like then, he can still feel his nerves now, singing like a tuning fork, he can still feel the panic bubbling in his stomach, he can still feel the kick of the blasters in his hands and the jolts of fear when the river monster gets a little too close to snapping his torso for comfort. He is still aware of what he's doing, he is still aware of the danger he's in and how close he is to winning and how close he is to losing, but at the same time his brain is off doing mundane things, like thinking about his middle school speeches. He thinks it might be survival instinct, to keep him from simply seizing up or something.

Maybe it's just that he's fought so many battles at this point that he can do this on autopilot, and he doesn't _need_ his full attention to shoot things anymore.

He thinks about Kyungsoo watching him shooting the Gyarados-monster. He thinks about if Kyungsoo will reprimand him for not thinking before agreeing to this battle, or for his shooting form, or something. He thinks about Kyungsoo reprimanding him just for the sake of reprimanding him; telling him off because Chanyeol getting into trouble scares him, and he needs something to make him feel normal in the aftermath. Chanyeol thinks about Kyungsoo and Kyungsoo's feelings a lot. He doesn't have much else to think about.

He gets so wrapped up in thinking and trying not to die that he forgets to actually register the river monster's HP until suddenly he does, and it's at something like 10%. The monster is moving more frantically now, lashing out wildly and lunging desperately, and Chanyeol's attention snaps away from senseless ponderings to launch him into Panic Survival Mode. His own HP is still at 23%, but he doesn't want to know how much it'll drop if those fangs sink through his armour. As it is, it feels like his skin is peeling back from the water sinking through his bodysuit, and it's doing an awfully good job of distracting him from the danger at hand. It's taken him this long to realize it, but his hands are getting it the worst, throbbing with pain as he shoots with both blaster guns at the creature's body. He wants desperately to drop the guns and dunk his hands into ice water, but obviously that's not an option, so he keeps shooting.

One of his blaster guns finally runs out of battery power, and he drops it immediately, hoping he'll have enough power left in the second to finish the job. The river monster's down to 5% HP, but it's movements are growing faster, and Chanyeol's are getting slower as his HP dwindles to 14%. He stumbles when he tries to jump out of the way of a lunge, and the monster's armoured head clips his elbow, making him stagger. It does minimal damage, but it spooks Chanyeol, and he squeezes the trigger of his blaster harder. It doesn't make it shoot any faster, but by the time he gets his sword unclipped, the monster has already retreated into the water, and he has to shoot into the depths of the river to lure it out again.

This time, though, he's ready. He only needs a few more hits to finish the thing; he knows how to get them. The monster rears up, acid water rising up around him in a wild wave, and Chanyeol manages to hit it twice with blasts from his gun. Only a sliver remains of its HP bar, and it lunges out at him with incredible speed. Closing his eyes, Chanyeol swings his sword around to meet it.

The river monster doesn't explode like the grasslands' boss did, but it does shriek so loudly as it dies that Chanyeol's ears physically hurt. He drops his second blaster like it's on fire, sinking to his knees to strip off his gauntlets and gloves, hissing at the red, blistered skin underneath. His entire arms shake, and then his whole body. He tries to decide what way to move that would hurt the least, which ends up with him frozen in place, biting back whimpers. The burning is not like the sharp pain of cuts or the powerful ache of gun blasts; it sears through his nerves, deep in his skin, rendering him unable to move.

It only really hits him that he's won when Kyungsoo drops to his knees beside him, helpfully tugging off his helmet for him to look at his face. "Okay?" he asks urgently, glancing down at Chanyeol's hands briefly before meeting his eyes again.

Chanyeol inhales slowly, scared that any sudden movements will pull at his raw skin. "I beat it," he says, managing to muster some pride in himself. 

"Yes you did," Kyungsoo agrees, sounding a little proud himself, but also exasperated. Chanyeol likes that. It's familiar. "You _really_ should have waited for some advice from me first, though."

Chanyeol laughs weakly. "I knew you'd say that," he says. "Realized it after the deed was done, though."

The corner of Kyungsoo's lips quirks up, and that's more comfort than even the slow ebb of pain from Chanyeol's skin. 

"Hey, lovebirds," Joonmyun calls suddenly, and Chanyeol looks up, almost surprised by his presence. "If you're done celebrating, I'd suggest you get on my boat; my radars are picking up some activity and I'm betting it's not someone coming to congratulate you."

"We're leaving right away?" Chanyeol asks, struggling to his feet with some difficulty. His HP is still low, and his bones are starting to ache. "It's late...and I haven't gotten to know you." He smiles sheepishly, picking up his dropped armour and weapons as his skin begins to heal over.

Joonmyun snorts softly. "If you behave, I’ll let you ask me some questions after we dock. After all, you _did_ kill that river monster. I didn't think you could."

Chanyeol blinks, affronted. "Then why did you tell me to?"

"Because I wanted it gone." Joonmyun grins. "Now come on, get on the boat. I need to stow you away before we get going, and then we gotta get going _fast_."

Chanyeol and Kyungsoo follow him promptly onboard, and Joonmyun leads them to a concealed door in the floor of what appears to be his bedroom, which reveals an iron hatch that he lifts with straining biceps. Beneath that is a drop into a sealed-off section of the hold, out of which Joonmyun hauls a stack of boxes. "In you go," he instructs briskly. 

Chanyeol stares down into the cramped, dark space and balks. "That's where we're hiding?"

Joonmyun hums and nods. "That's where I put all the stuff I need to transport illegally. You're a bit bigger than my usual cargo, but you should fit. I hope you're not claustrophobic."

Chanyeol swallows hard. He's not, _really,_ but he doesn't know many people who wouldn't hesitate before climbing in there. "Well," he says, clearing his throat. "We'll call it character-building, yeah?"

Joonmyun chuckles. "Sure, buddy. Just get in, I need to get moving."

With a heavy sigh, Chanyeol sits down at the edge of the opening and swings his legs into it. The drop is much shorter than he'd expected; the secret compartment is only a couple feet deep, and he has to get onto his hands and knees to crawl to the far end. There's really no convenient way for two adult humans to fit inside. It's not wide enough for them to squeeze in shoulder-to-shoulder, nor high enough for them to sit up. 

Chanyeol ends up curling on his side, back to one wall and his backpack tucked against his stomach, and Kyungsoo slides in next to him, squirming until he's facing Chanyeol in the darkness. Joonmyun drops the boxes back into the compartment, blocking off the last remaining source of light as he hides them from view, and Chanyeol's forced to bend his legs further, tangling them with Kyungsoo's.

"I'll come get you when we're all the way across!" Joonmyun calls, and then the doors shut heavily, leaving them in absolute blackness.

It's quiet for a few moments, save for the sloshing of waves beneath them, the creaking of the boat, and their own breaths. Chanyeol doesn't realize he's shaking until Kyungsoo tells him so.

"Huh? Oh." Chanyeol swallows thickly, then takes a deep breath. He wriggles his arm up to flip up his visor, then turns on his helmet light, which is so bright that Kyungsoo makes a startled sound.

His guide's face is right in front of Chanyeol's, eyes blinking against the light, then roving across Chanyeol's face. Chanyeol holds his breath and feels his limbs continue to tremble as the boat coughs to life and begins to move, rocking against the waves. It feels like the walls are pressing in around him, squeezing at his chest, and to be honest he's still reeling from his battle and his low HP, and he feels extremely jittery and nervous and breathless. Kyungsoo's staring doesn't help; Chanyeol wants to say something, but he can't seem to think of a single word. He thinks of how Kyungsoo's been acting with him lately, tight-lipped and brusque, and keeps his mouth shut.

It's Kyungsoo that speaks first, though, lifting his hand to hold onto Chanyeol’s elbow and murmuring, "You can relax, you know."

Chanyeol chuckles softly, sure he can feel Kyungsoo's gentle touch even through his armour. "I tend to be a bit shaky after a near-death experience."

Kyungsoo's answering smile is small, but it makes the knot in Chanyeol's stomach loosen a little. "Me too. You know, after _you_ almost die." His fingers tighten around Chanyeol's arm.

" _You're_ not shaking," Chanyeol says, frowning.

"I'm very good at hiding it," Kyungsoo says with another half-smile. He's silent for a long moment, just looking at him, like he's searching Chanyeol's face for something. Chanyeol has no idea what it might be, so he keeps quiet, blinking uncertainly and waiting for his heart rate to slow. The rocking of the boat is soothing, somehow, even if it’s rough enough to jar him every few seconds. At least it's constant.

Kyungsoo's fingers twitch, and then he lifts them slowly, grazing Chanyeol’s upper arms and shoulders before they brush ever so gently across his cheek. Chanyeol holds his breath again, too shocked to do anything else. Kyungsoo sighs and whispers, "I'm getting very sick of thinking I'm about to lose you."

Chanyeol swallows hard, feeling his heart jump back into a pounding rhythm. "I'm still here," he says so softly he almost thinks Kyungsoo won't hear it.

Kyungsoo huffs out a breath of a laugh. "Yeah. You're still here."

Chanyeol opens his mouth to say something, to stupidly assure Kyungsoo that he's not going anywhere, that it'll take more than a gigantic Gyarados to take him out, but before he can make any promises he can't keep, the boat jerks harshly and they hear, much too clearly to be realistic, Joonmyun's voice saying, " _Well, shit._ "

Then something happens to Chanyeol that’s never happened before. It’s kind of like a flashback, where his vision goes black before returning with an image he’s not seeing with his own eyes, but this one isn’t a scene from the past. Suddenly, Chanyeol is floating above Joonmyun’s boat, looking down on the scene that unfolds, like he’s having an out-of-body experience. It’s a cutscene, he realizes, giving the player the opportunity to know what’s going on even though he can’t be there. 

And what’s going on is that there’s a black and silver watercraft pulling up next to Joonmyun’s, sirens whooping. It looks more like a very small starship, in Chanyeol’s opinion, wide and flat with a narrower, flat nose and room for a single rider in the domed cockpit. It looks very menacing, and very official. 

Joonmyun looks annoyed and resigned, but not particularly worried, which calms the sudden panic in Chanyeol’s chest somewhat. Not entirely, though. He might just be a really good faker. 

“Good evening, sir,” Joonmyun calls over as the cockpit hisses open, leaning his hip against the side of his boat casually. “Anything I can help you with?”

“Sir, you are not authorized to be crossing the river here,” comes a voice from the other boat, and a patrol guard in uniform stands. Chanyeol can’t tell from this distance if he’s human or robot. 

“I’m patrol,” Joonmyun lies smoothly. “Undercover.”

The guard hesitates, then says, “I’m not aware of any undercover patrols in this area.”

“I’m passing through,” Joonmyun says. “You don’t stay in one place too long if you’re undercover.”

There’s another pause, and then the guard says, “Sir, I’m going to have to come aboard and ask you some questions.”

“Be my guest,” Joonmyun says, stepping back. 

A ladder extends from the edge of the patrol boat to Joonmyun’s, and the guard is on deck in moments. He steps up to Joonmyun’s side and holds out a gloved hand. “Your badge, sir.”

Joonmyun grunts, unclipping his ECD from his belt and sliding out an identification card. Chanyeol’s chest seizes up momentarily—is Joonmyun really with the patrol corps? Has he switched sides? Everything is very confusing, and Chanyeol is starting to worry again. He really never stops. 

He hands it over, and the guard passes a black device over it, which scans the surface. 

“Your badge is no longer valid,” is the unimpressed reaction. 

“Yeah, well, I dropped my new one into the water, and I wasn’t about to go fish it out,” Joonmyun says dryly. 

“Sir, I’m going to have to search your vehicle.”

Joonmyun rolls his eyes and sighs theatrically, but he sweeps his arm in a compliant gesture, standing back as the guard makes a quick round of the deck, poking into corners and opening the hatch of the main hold, which is empty apart from some clothes and food. As he moves, though, Joonmyun inches towards the worn seat in front of his controls, leaning against the back of it as he casually drops a concealed blaster onto the frayed cushion. It’s out of sight of the guard, who’s already covered that side of the boat, but it’s within grabbing distance. 

The guard finishes his search without discovering the secret hold in which Kyungsoo and Chanyeol hold their breaths, then approaches Joonmyun again, who obligingly steps away from the seat to hold out his arms for a full-body pat-down. The only thing found is the letter tucked into his shirt. 

Of course, the envelope is opened and the sheet of paper is slid out. Independent of his will, Chanyeol’s vision zooms in to focus on the letter, and it’s read aloud in Yixing’s voice. 

_Dear J,_  
It’s been ages since I’ve seen you last. Are you doing okay? Are you healthy? Are you happy? I miss you. I’m thinking about you. If there’s a deity, I’m praying to it for your safety. Don’t forget about me; I won’t forget about you. I’m doing well. I’ll come find you as soon as I can. Stay safe.  
Love, Y 

Before Chanyeol can really react to that, his vision zooms back out, and the guard looks up at Joonmyun through its helmet visor. “Sir, please submit identification.”

“Sure,” Joonmyun says and smiles easily, reaching behind the seat again with one smooth motion. 

The guard immediately reaches for the blaster at its hip, but Joonmyun is faster; his gun is up in an instant, firing point-blank at the guard’s chest. Unlike Chanyeol’s blasters, which do no visible damage, Joonmyun’s clearly punches the guard back like a physical blow, and its armour dents inwards, smoking. Another shot, and he gets through the breastplate; a third, and the guard falls. Joonmyun tucks his gun back into his holster, takes the guard’s as well, and then bodily lifts its limp body from the deck and dumps it into the river, where it sinks with a hiss and a puff of greenish steam. 

“Well then,” Joonmyun says, picking up his letter from where it rests by his feet and tucking it back into his shirt. “Let’s continue.”

Chanyeol’s vision returns to him in a flash, just as the boat lurches back into motion. “What the—” he gasps. 

Kyungsoo smiles vaguely. “That happens every time we cross the river this way,” he confesses. “It’s the same every time, as far as I know.”

“What’s the point of it?” Chanyeol asks, heart thudding even as they glide away from danger. 

Kyungsoo attempts a shrug in their confined space. “To show what a badass Joonmyun is? And to show what’s in the letter you delivered. Plus, if your stealth is low enough, you can get found, but that’s actually never happened to me. I think it needs to be under 40.”

Chanyeol flips down his visor briefly to look at his own stealth stats—they’re up to 60 following that little encounter. “Well, it was scary.”

Kyungsoo hums in agreement. Then, after a moment’s silence, he says, “By the way, don’t...don’t ask Joonmyun about the letter. He doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“Oh.” Chanyeol blushes a little. “So they’re…?”

“Well, kind of. I’ve spoken to Yixing about it before. In-game, yeah, they’re lovers—Joonmyun’s original character was actually a female before he showed up. Xing and Joon themselves didn’t know each other in real life, but they’re kind of, well. After playing lovers for so long, I guess you start to feel things. It’s complicated. They worry about each other a lot.” 

Chanyeol chews on his lip, feeling a little warm with embarrassment at discussing lovers and relationships with Kyungsoo, especially so soon after he’d touched Chanyeol’s cheek so tenderly—and Chanyeol’s not about to forget about that anytime soon. Instead, he just says, “From what I’ve seen and heard about Yixing’s in-game character, I’m having a hard time imagining him falling for _anyone_.” 

Kyungsoo smiles slightly. “It’s an interesting aspect of his character, isn’t it? Soft for his badass boatman—or, well, boatwoman originally.” 

“I like it,” Chanyeol says with a soft chuckle.

They're silent for the remainder of the trip, but it's not as tense or awkward as it had been before the cutscene. They're still uncomfortably cramped and uncomfortably close, but Kyungsoo closes his eyes and eventually so does Chanyeol, and then the world is just hard surfaces and rhythmic rocking and several points of contact—their touching knees, Kyungsoo's fingers on Chanyeol’s arm, Chanyeol's hand brushing against Kyungsoo’s chest because there's nowhere else to put it. For a while, inside that secret hold on Joonmyun's boat, nothing else exists. It's kind of nice. 

Eventually, though, there's some bumping and knocking about, and finally the door of the hold opens and Joonmyun calls, "Up and at 'em, boys. We've docked."

It's considerably harder to scoot out of the tiny space than it had been to get in, but they manage eventually, with only minor bruises and a couple awkward moments of being pressed together to show for it. Joonmyun grins as he hauls them out, but doesn't say anything. His eyes are a little grim.

Dusk had fallen while they were crossing the river, and Chanyeol stretches in the half light, yawning hugely. "Is this where we leave you?" he asks Joonmyun, frowning in disappointment at the other man.

But Joonmyun shakes his head. "Nah, I'm tagging along to the village, actually."

"Really? Why the change of plans?" Chanyeol looks around at the wharf around them, built of rusting poles up to the surface of the toxic river, and then a mixture of rickety wood and metal above that. There are a few other boats docked here too, and they all look like Joonmyun's; dingy, rusted, a little like they might fall apart if you push them too hard. The few people in sight look like the sketchy type, and the buildings just beyond the riverbank look the same. "Also, where are we?"

Joonmyun smiles vaguely. "We're at one of the few riverside settlements. As you can imagine, not too many people want to live here. It's mostly used as a trading post, but a whole lot gets traded here that the government doesn't know about." He looks around, his eyes a little fond. "It's one of the best places I know of if you want to lie low, because the whole village is doing it. And that's what I need to be doing right now, after that little spectacle back there." He jerks his thumb back towards the river in the direction they came from.

"Right, that." Chanyeol's lips twist, and he and Kyungsoo follow Joonmyun down to the dock. "Are you...okay?"

Joonmyun laughs a little, smiling wryly. "Oh, I'm fine. But killing patrol officers inevitably means the place'll be swarming with government bots by tomorrow, so I'm gonna have to play nice for a little while until it dies down. I'll hunker down out here for a few days, then go from there."

"Sorry," Chanyeol mumbles, following him down the dock and cringing when the boards creak beneath his boots.

"Oh, no, it wasn't your fault," Joonmyun sighs, waving away his apology. "They didn't even find you. No, it's all part of the job. Sometimes they take the bait when I flash 'em that badge I nicked off an actual patrol officer once, but more often they don't, and I have to send them to swim with the fishes and lurk for a week before I can get on the water again. C'est la vie. As long as I survive, all is well." His hand goes up to pat at his chest, where Yixing's letter is. 

Chanyeol glances at Kyungsoo, but doesn't mention it. "So...we're getting a hotel, then?" he asks, trying not to sound too hopeful. 

Joonmyun looks back at him and grins. "We sure are, hero. I know a few places that'll take us."

Chanyeol can't contain a whoop, and behind him, Kyungsoo laughs.

 

The riverside settlement reminds Chanyeol a little of Hath, Kyungsoo's dingy hometown, except even grottier and much less inviting in nature. Joonmyun nods silently to a few people who lurk in shadows on the streets, and they nod back, but Chanyeol still feels jumpy and nervous at every sudden movement. Maybe it's because it's dark, but he's really looking forward to getting inside and settling down for the night.

Joonmyun leads them straight to a low building with a green tiled roof, and Chanyeol almost sobs with relief when he sees the full moon over the door. He feels like he'd do almost anything for a relaxed night of not thinking something might try to kill him while he sleeps.

They get a tiny room for the three of them, bare and grimy but _safe_. Chanyeol doesn't even care that there are no beds, just mats to roll out on the floor. He sheds all his armour and peels back his bodysuit to check over his skin, but of course there are no scars, no signs that he's been receiving injuries left and right.

"Soo, how long have I been here?" he asks, sitting cross-legged on his bed with the top half of his suit hanging off his waist, leaving his shoulders and torso bare. It feels nice to be so unrestricted and free. "Do you know how many days?"

Kyungsoo hums vaguely, rolling out his own bed and not looking at him. "Seven days? Eight? I think this is the eighth."

"Oh. Wow. That's...a lot less than I was expecting. It feels like I've been here for at least a month."

Joonmyun chuckles darkly. "The days really drag out, don't they?”

“I keep telling him not to pay attention to passage of time,” Kyungsoo says, sounding faintly exasperated, but a little amused as well. 

“It’s really not worth it,” Joonmyun agrees. 

Chanyeol looks at the latter and hesitates before carefully asking, “How long does it _feel_ like you’ve been here?”

Joonmyun shrugs vaguely. “That’s a hard question. Part of me feels like I was born here, so, twenty-something years. Another part of me feels like it’s only been a couple of months altogether, because technically I’m only actively living while there’s a hero playing through the game. And then a third part knows on some level that I’ve been here for...what, two years? What year is it?” 

“You’ve been here about a year and 8 months, as far as we know,” Kyungsoo tells him gently.

Joonmyun hums, looking thoughtful and grim. Chanyeol regrets bringing it up, but before he can change the topic, Joonmyun says, “I wonder if my parents are home from America already.”

“What?” Chanyeol says, as Kyungsoo at the same time says, “Joon, don’t.”

Joonmyun waves the guide away and says, “No, I’m just. They said they’d only be abroad for a year, so. I wonder if they sold the yacht?”

“Your family has a yacht?” Chanyeol asks in surprise. 

Joonmyun grins, but it looks a little vicious. “Ironic, right? I wonder if that’s why I got this role. I swear, if I ever get back, I will vomit at the mere sight of bodies of water. I’m moving away from the Han River. I might move to the desert.”

Chanyeol chuckles softly, but his chest aches at the look on Joonmyun’s face, helpless and angry and just a little bit unhinged. It’s clear that everyone in this game is starting to go crazy, trapped in this virtual prison. 

“Alright, men, time for bed,” Kyungsoo says suddenly, his bright voice obviously forced. “New adventures await us tomorrow.”

Joonmyun cracks a more genuine smile, stripping off his jacket and leather boots to crawl onto his bed mat. “Yessir,” he says, snapping a sloppy salute. 

Chanyeol sends his guide a fond look, pleased and relieved beyond belief that he’s his old self again, now that the river is behind them. He’d been so worried and lost for a while there, never knowing what to say or do to make things better. He should have known Kyungsoo would do that for him, too. 

Kyungsoo catches his look, though, and his dark eyebrows rise. “You better stay in your own bed tonight,” he warns, and his lips twitch as he says it. 

Joonmyun shoots them both a very interested, smirky look across the room, and Chanyeol laughs embarrassedly. “You be quiet,” he mumbles, lying down on his mat and pulling his thin blanket up to cover his bare shoulders. 

“I’m just saying,” Kyungsoo says, his tone teasing, and then he moves to turn off the lights. The room plunges into darkness, and Chanyeol inhales deeply, closing his eyes. 

“Night,” he says to the room at large. 

Joonmyun just makes a vague sound in response, but out of the darkness, Kyungsoo’s voice is fond as he says, “Goodnight, hero.”

For the first time in a long while, Chanyeol falls asleep with a smile.


	12. Chapter 12

Chanyeol’s good mood is not fated to last long. The three of them wake up bright and early the next morning, and while Joonmyun is fairly cheerful as he leads Chanyeol out into the village to places where he might buy and sell goods, Kyungsoo’s dark cloud seems to have returned without warning. 

“You okay?” Chanyeol asks his guide carefully, rifling through his pack to sell all the junk he’d picked up in the village before the mountains.

Kyungsoo just waves him away, telling him to focus on the task at hand, but in that moment Chanyeol catches a shared look between Joonmyun and his guide, and suddenly the former is frowning as well, looking nervous. He obviously knows what’s bothering Kyungsoo, but neither of them seem willing (or able) to share. 

Chanyeol finishes selling all his extra crap, then buys a pack of five 20% HP boosters and two 50% ones. He has a few things he can’t sell, like the keys to the Murus gates he still has from the guard he’d killed in the mayor’s house, and he hesitates over selling his old helmet and the electric baton he’d gotten off the scout from the mountains before deciding to sell only the former. He’s become a bit of a hoarder in the past week; he’s learned that he has to be, to survive in this place. 

He lingers over general stats boosts and other minor upgrades and tools before deciding to spend the majority of his remaining money on a new, better blaster with a higher power and greater battery capacity, as well as an extra battery pack for it, and then he upgrades his sword on top of that. It leaves him with dwindling numbers on his ECD, but he figures it’ll be worth it in the long run. 

He doesn’t miss the silent looks passed between Joonmyun and Kyungsoo as he hands over his weapon to be upgraded, though, and Chanyeol starts to wonder if he might be making a whole lot of mistakes. Yet when he asks, he gets no answers; just averted gazes and tense shakes of the head. 

While his sword is in the shop, Chanyeol wanders around town and talks to some of the villagers, all of whom look mildly sketchy at best (and downright villainous at worst, though no one tries to kill Chanyeol outright). All they really do is talk trash about the government and offer him side quests in exchange for more information, more money, and more items, but Chanyeol turns them all down on principle. He doesn’t want anymore trouble for himself, especially not while he doesn’t have his best weapon on hand. 

Joonmyun is obviously making more of an effort than Kyungsoo to remain cheery and talkative despite whatever it is that’s getting both of them down, and he talks to Chanyeol throughout the day while Kyungsoo trails along behind them. It’s all mindless chatter, and it doesn’t do much to cover up his worried frowns, but at least Chanyeol gets a chance to _talk_ to someone. He makes dumb jokes that Joonmyun obligingly laughs at, and he babbles uselessly about his adventure thus far and the times he’s impressed himself, and there’s no point to it, but it makes Chanyeol feel a little bit normal again. Maybe it’s unwise to normalize his life here, in a _video game_ , but after barely talking for several days in a row, holding a conversation feels like a luxury. 

Eventually, Chanyeol gets his sword back, now with thicker crossbars and a silver pommel, and he tries to be happy about the fact that his combat stats are up to 80. It’s hard, though, when Kyungsoo looks a bit like he’s trying not to let Chanyeol know the world is about to end. 

It’s mid-afternoon, and when Joonmyun asks if there’s anything else Chanyeol wanted in the village, he shrugs and says, “No, I don’t think so. It’s not exactly an exciting place to be.”

“In that case, I guess it’s time for you to be on your way.” Joonmyun smiles, but it looks less than enthusiastic. “Follow me, I’ll go with you to the edge of the village.”

They weave between the ramshackle buildings and speeding hovercars, down alleys full of probably-illegal goods and through crowds of shifty-eyed villagers, and eventually make it to the far side of town, where the streets are packed, dry dirt rather than cracked concrete. They clear the last row of derelict houses, and Joonmyun sweeps his arms out. “Behold,” he says grandly, “the Wastelands.”

Chanyeol stares. As far as he can see, stretching out to the horizon, is a vast expanse of desolate land, bone-dry and flat except where its pockmarked by what look like craters. A gust of wind blows by, and it whips up clouds of sand as it goes, making the air around them hazy and gritty. Chanyeol gapes, then immediately starts coughing, his throat burning. “Is this safe?” he asks, hastily closing his visor and breathing in filtered air. 

“No,” Joonmyun says simply. “But what part of your trip _has_ been?”

“You can say that again,” Chanyeol mutters. “What _is_ this place?” 

“It’s the aftermath of the war,” Joonmyun says with a shrug. “A huge stretch of land between the river and the hills and forests waaaaay out there—” he gestures in front of them “—is now completely uninhabitable because of all the nuclear and chemical warfare that went on here. It’s like. You saw what happened to the river. The same thing also happened to the earth. It’s poisonous.”

“And I have to get through there? On foot?” Chanyeol makes a face, although he knows Joonmyun can’t see it. Kyungsoo is being very quiet, hanging back. 

“There’s transportation that goes through there to take people back and forth across it, but you won’t be able to get on there,” Joonmyun tells him. “So yeah, you’re going on foot.”

“Oh, great. That sounds fun.” Chanyeol sighs deeply. “What’ll all kill me out there?”

“Oh, lots,” Joonmyun says breezily. “The air, for one thing. Keep your helmet on at all times, it’s noxious. It’ll start lowering your HP after about 5 seconds of breathing it in, and then exponentially quickly. Second, SCABS and other nasty bots. There’s tons of them here, since they were active in the war back then. They don’t travel in packs so much, but there are hundreds of them, so stay alert. Stuff is likely to hide in those craters, that’s where acid rain gathered post-bombs. There might be sand storms and fume clouds, avoid those, they make visibility lower and slow you down. And lastly, Vultures, the scavengers in this area. They’re more likely to shoot before they talk, so be careful around them.” Joonmyun grins. “Other than that, you should be fine, as long as you head straight for the next city on your map.”

“Oh my god,” Chanyeol groans. “Maybe I want to stay in this village after all. Do you think I could start a new life here?”

Joonmyun chuckles softly. “’Fraid not.”

“Damn. Well...uhhh, advice? Gifts? Parting words?”

“Gifts first,” Joonmyun says, and behind him, Kyungsoo looks as surprised as Chanyeol feels. 

“This is new,” his guide says. 

“It is?” Chanyeol blinks, flipping his visor back up to peer between them. “What is it?”

“You really captured my heart, killing that river monster for me,” Joonmyun says, grinning cheekily. “Look.” He holds out his hand. 

Chanyeol reaches out to take it, and his stats flash over his shoulder. His affinity is up to 40. “Hey, wow. You’re practically in love with me.”

Joonmyun snorts. “Not quite. That’s the first time anyone’s ever gotten that far with me, though, so.” He takes his hand back and rifles through his pockets before drawing out a small square of glossy paper. He hands it over. “Xing left this with me once. Said it might be important, he wasn’t sure, he’d found it in the camp after it got destroyed. Wanted me to keep it safe. I think you should probably have it.”

Chanyeol takes the paper carefully between his fingers and looks down, shifting as Kyungsoo presses close to his side to look as well. They both say, “What?” at the same time. 

It’s a small picture, barely more than wallet-sized, but all three people in the photo are familiar. The first, on the far left, is Chanyeol’s dad—he’s surprised he recognizes his face, since he’d only seen it the once in his dream-flashback, but maybe that has something to do with his in-game character data. The other two take a moment for Chanyeol to place, but two pairs of vacant eyes flash in his memory, surrounded by blood. 

“My parents?” Kyungsoo asks, obviously as baffled as Chanyeol is. “My parents knew your dad?”

“It sure looks that way,” Chanyeol murmurs. The three adults are smiling in their picture, friendly and comfortable. “Did they work together?”

“I have no clue either,” Joonmyun says. “Xing never told me anything.”

“Was my dad part of the rebellion?” Chanyeol asks. “That’s probably it, isn’t it? Since he sent me to, you know, take down the government and all.”

Kyungsoo shrugs. “I don’t know anything about him, but then again, my parents were always really secretive about their work. Said they wanted to keep me and my brother safe.”

Chanyeol makes a face—they’d left their sons at home while the infiltrated a corrupt political party, how safe could they possibly be? But he just says, “So, this is enigmatic.”

“I don’t know anything about this,” Kyungsoo confesses. “I’ve never had a hero trigger this scene or storyline before.” 

“Well, I guess I’ll keep this,” Chanyeol says with a shrug, flipping the picture over and finding no more clues on the back. “I’m sure it’ll, you know, come in handy eventually.”

Joonmyun clears his throat, then steps back. “Anyway. That’s that. So...this is where we part ways.” 

Kyungsoo’s hand latches onto Chanyeol’s elbow suddenly, squeezes hard, and then lets go as he steps away. He’s looking hard at the ground. “And...me too.”

Chanyeol blinks, stares. “What?” Kyungsoo’s words catch up with him. “Wait, _what?_ ” 

Kyungsoo flinches, as if his words are a slap to the face. “I can’t go with you.” He nods towards the Wastelands, still not meeting his gaze. “Out there. I can’t go.”

“Why not?” Chanyeol demands, panic flooding his system. This can’t be happening.

“You heard what Joonmyun said before. The air out there is toxic. I wouldn’t last more than a minute.” Kyungsoo’s expression is pained, his lips pressed tight together. 

“So, what, I’m expected to just go alone? You came with me all this way just to abandon me here?” Chanyeol doesn’t know why he sounds so _angry_ , but he’s honestly scared shitless by the idea of braving the rest of this journey on his own. 

Kyungsoo shrugs helplessly. “I’d need a gas mask to go with you. You had a couple different opportunities to pick one up, but you didn’t take any of them.”

“So this is _my_ fault?” Chanyeol feels like throwing something, but he knows he can’t afford to. He kicks a nearby rock instead, and it thwacks against the nearest house. “ _Fuck_.” 

“I can’t go with you,” Kyungsoo says pitifully. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Chanyeol says. “You’re coming with me.”

Kyungsoo stares at him. “Chanyeol. I _can’t._ ”

“I’m not leaving without you, Soo. I _need_ you.” Chanyeol doesn’t care that he sounds desperate. He _is_ desperate. 

Kyungsoo’s face crumples slightly. “You’re wasting time arguing with me, Chanyeol. You should go. I can’t leave.”

“Then we’re finding a way. You need a mask? We’ll get you a mask.” Chanyeol squares his shoulders. “Joonmyun? Any advice?”

Joonmyun looks between them for a moment, looking half amused and half pitying—Chanyeol isn’t sure if it’s for him or for Kyungsoo. “Well, this _is_ a trading village. You’re not in the worst place to find a gas mask.”

Chanyeol grins triumphantly, feeling a spark of hope in his chest. “See? This shouldn’t be that hard. Why did you make it sound like this was a lost case?” 

Kyungsoo doesn’t respond, and Chanyeol doesn’t understand until he approaches the first trading stall and sees how much a simple gas mask costs.

“Are you kidding me? I barely even had that much money _before_ I got my weapons upgraded and shit.” Chanyeol looks dismally at the numbers on his ECD. “Do you think, if I sold some of my stuff—”

“No,” Kyungsoo says immediately, face hard. “Chanyeol, don’t you _dare_ sell a bunch of your stuff just so I can go with you across the Wastelands. You’ll die without it, and then what will the use have been?” 

“At least then I won’t have died alone,” Chanyeol mutters, but he knows Kyungsoo is right. “So what do I do? Do I have to kill someone?” His throat tightens at the thought of it—he hasn’t had to kill anything other than monsters and robots, and he’s been glad of it. He doesn’t know if he’d be able to pull the trigger on a human, game data or otherwise, even if his life depended on it. 

“I mean, you could try it, but odds are you’d just get booted out of town,” Joonmyun says. “And without the mask.”

“Shit.” Chanyeol sighs, tugging off his helmet to rake a hand through his hair. “So I can’t buy one, and I can’t steal one. You’re sure I can’t steal one?” 

Joonmyun shrugs. “I’m pretty sure the people around here expect and know how to deal with people who try to steal.”

Chanyeol groans. “There has to be a way to get ahold of one. Like, what if _I_ didn’t have one? There’d have to be another option so that the hero could cross the Wastelands. Right?”

Joonmyun looks thoughtful for a moment. “You know what, you might be onto something. There’s a side quest for you to get a gas mask in this village; I don’t see why you wouldn’t be allowed to give it to Kyungsoo. It’s worth a try at least, right?” 

“Tell me.” Chanyeol barely keeps from grabbing Joonmyun by the shoulders and shaking him. “What do I have to do? Where do I have to go?”

Joonmyun gives him a small smile. “Follow me.”

They wind through the narrow village streets for several minutes, with Joonmyun in the lead and Chanyeol trailing along behind them, with Kyungsoo at his side. Chanyeol almost forgets his guide is there, so focused on getting where they need to go and doing what they need to do, until he feels a hand grip his elbow. Kyungsoo’s always touching him there; it’s one of the few places where bulky armour isn’t blocking contact. 

"You really don't have to do this," Kyungsoo says softly, and when Chanyeol looks down at him, he finds him staring out at the street.

"No, Soo," Chanyeol says, and he can't even manage to sound as sure as he feels. "I really, really do. I don't think you understand, but I think I'd die without you. And not just because I'd have no idea what to do and would definitely mess up within the first day. You're— You're so important. I _need_ you." 

Kyungsoo turns to look at him briefly, lips quirking. "That's very romantic of you."

Chanyeol blinks at him, then laughs. "That's...not exactly how I meant it."

"I know," Kyungsoo says quietly.

He's broken Chanyeol's intense mood, though, and Chanyeol ducks his head. "I just really need you," he mumbles, looking at the ground. Kyungsoo drops his hand. "I'm not going to give up so easily."

"We're here," Joonmyun says suddenly, and Chanyeol almost runs into him. "Chanyeol, meet a...friend of mine."

Chanyeol realizes after a moment that they're in the creepy part of town—or, well, even creepier than the rest. He'd passed by it a couple times during his wandering, a dark alleyway lined with seedy-looking stalls and even seedier faces, and dark stains on the cobblestones that look suspiciously like blood, and he'd decided to steer clear of it. Of _course_ , this is where he has to go to get his mask.

In front of them, a young woman dressed in tight pants, heavy boots, and a tattered tank top pushes off from where she's leaning against a grimy metal wall. "What can I do for you?"

Chanyeol swallows hard as speech options appear in the air in front of him. The woman is tall but thin, and her face is pretty, but her eyes are hard in a very dangerous way. There's a blaster on her hip in clear sight, and a long, thin blade beside it, and Chanyeol would bet those aren't even her only weapons. She holds herself like she knows what she's doing, and like she knows that Chanyeol doesn't. "U-um. I'm looking to trade?" he says, picking the least aggressive of his options.

The woman looks him up and down, thin lips curving up slowly. The name over her shoulder reads _Viper_. "What were you looking to buy?"

An inventory list pops up in front of Chanyeol, and he clears his throat to croak, "A gas mask."

"Hmm. I got one of those. But you ain't paying with money, are you." It's not a question.

"N-no ma'am," Chanyeol says, tacking on the title instinctively. Real or not, this woman intimidates him. Joonmyun coughs behind him, and Chanyeol is fairly certain it's to cover a laugh.

"Hmm. A trade then? I suppose I'd be willing to part with it, if you brought me something in return."

"What is it?" Chanyeol asks eagerly, barely even waiting to see if that's one of his speech options.

Viper shifts her weight in a way that's just a bit too stiff and robotic to be real. Her facial muscles move unnaturally, too, and her eyes are vague and blank. Chanyeol likes the reminders that she's not an actual person, even if that doesn't mean that she couldn't kill him if the game told her to. "You ever heard of _venena?_ "

"Um. No?"

"Better known as _Angel's Poison._ It's the drug of choice 'round here. It'll kill you, eventually, but you'll enjoy the trip." Viper smiles wickedly. "People do what they gotta do to escape their lives in these parts. Hard to come by, though. It's made out of the fungus that grows on the banks of the river and in the craters out on the Wastelands. Toxic but addictive. _Very_ addictive." She laughs shortly. "Been awhile since I could get my hands on any, though. Sells for top dollar out here, if you know how to refine it. Which I do."

"So you need me to get you some?" Chanyeol asks, skipping the options that offer deeper explanations or disgusted reactions. He doesn't care what fictional people do to themselves. He just wants that mask.

Viper hums. "I don't _need_ anything. But if you want to trade, that'll be your best bartering chip. I'll give you the gas mask for...three portions of it."

"That's it?" Chanyeol asks, agreeing wholeheartedly with the most surprised of his speech options. "Just three, and you'll give it to me?"

"Like I said, they're worth a lot. And they ain't a breeze to get. Those Wasteland Vultures have been destroying the fungus patches for a while now, or taking them for themselves to use and sell. And the stuff along the river is always in extremely short supply. Your friend here harvests it whenever she sees it." She nods towards Joonmyun.

Chanyeol chokes back a laugh at the misgendering—clearly some things don't change despite NPCs being replaced by real people—and looks back at Joonmyun, who shrugs. "It sells," he says simply. 

Viper laughs. "Take it or leave it. Three portions of _venena_ and the mask's yours."

Chanyeol nods slowly. "Yeah. Alright." 

"See you around, then," Viper says, and winks. Then she leans against the wall again, conversation clearly over. 

Chanyeol steps away, brows furrowed. "Okay. So. I'm doing this?"

Kyungsoo shrugs at him. "Your choice. You can still—"

"Oh, be quiet Kyungsoo, you know he's not leaving without you," Joonmyun says, and Chanyeol has to laugh. He sobers quickly, though, knowing he should get right to work. It's almost 6:00, which means they only have a few hours of daylight left. 

"So, she said it's either along the river or in the Wastelands, right?" Chanyeol frowns. "Should I try the river first?"

Kyungsoo hums vaguely. "Since you've taken this side-quest, the river will have changed. There'll be more dangers, it won't be easy pickings like it was before. Patrols, SCABs, the whole shebang."

"The river has less of the fungus, too," Joonmyun adds. "I should know. It'll take you longer if you take that route."

"Oh." Chanyeol frowns. "But you'll be able to come with me to the river, right?"

Kyungsoo shakes his head. "No, we have to stay here."

"Oh. Shit. Man, I hate this game." Chanyeol scowls. "So...Wastelands? Just me? The exact thing I've been trying to avoid?"

"You can stay close to the borders," Joonmyun offers. "You don't have to go too far in. Unless you can't find any, of course, but your chances are just as good close by."

Chanyeol sighs. "Well. No time like the present, right?"

Kyungsoo nods, stepping close to him and looking him over carefully. "Come back safe, okay?" he says, voice low as he fidgets with a piece of Chanyeol's armour that's obviously securely strapped on. "If you die because you're trying to get me a fucking mask, I will be _very._ Upset. Use your weapons, watch your back, take an HP boost if you need one, come back in plenty of time before dark."

"Yes mother," Chanyeol says, feeling warm at his guide's concern. Not that it isn't warranted.

"Good boy. Now go help people get high."

Chanyeol chuckles, and Joonmyun claps him on the back as Kyungsoo steps away. "Stay safe," is all he says.

They walk with him to the edge of the village, like before, but then Chanyeol is on his own. He steps out onto cracked sand, visor down, and sucks in stale air. The search begins.

 

The Wastelands are hot and unbelievably dry; even Chanyeol, who has up until now felt perfectly comfortable in every setting, can feel it. The game gods really went the whole nine yards with this place. Chanyeol isn't baking, even under his layers of armour, and he’s pretty sure one time Kyungsoo mentioned that his bodysuit is temperature regulating, but he's certainly not extremely comfortable. It feels like the dust in the air is already finding its way under the stretchy fabric, rubbing irritatingly against his skin. He sighs, scuffing the toe of his boots against the packed dirt under his feet, and moves towards another crater.

Despite being dusty and poisonous and hot, the Wastelands aren't as danger-filled as Chanyeol had been expecting—at least not yet. He approaches three different craters within the first twenty minutes or so, sword out and ready, but all he finds in each is about a foot of green, scummy water. No fungus, either, but also no other signs of life. Or robotic life. Apart from the noxious air, Chanyeol doesn't run into any of the things Joonmyun had warned him about.

Of course, this can't, and doesn't, last forever. He meets his first Wasteland SCAB as he's approaching his fourth crater, a six-legged, dust-covered thing with yellow eyes—level 3—and a stinger curved over its back like a scorpion. It's fast and vicious, and Chanyeol almost has a heart attack when it leaps over the lip of the pothole to lunge at him, but he strikes it down with three hits and only takes one hit himself, which heals in a couple seconds. Another SCAB follows shortly after, but this battle, too, ends quickly and relatively painlessly. Chanyeol's still running on 95% HP. 

Inside that crater he finds his first portion of fungus—a lump of spongey, dark green _stuff_ with little yellow pustules that make it look very, very inedible. Chanyeol picks it up carefully, hoping it won't kill him as long as there's no skin contact. It seems okay, though, so he drops it into his backpack and keeps moving, thinking he's doing pretty damn well on his own.

It takes him another hour to find the next one, and that hour is filled with spontaneous fights with murderous robots, one minor struggle through a passing dust cloud, and several very frightening encounters with fast-moving snakes that spring out of crevices in the sand at random and try to sink their fangs into Chanyeol's knees, where his armour doesn't cover his skin. But he never _really_ fears for his life. He kills all bots and snakes quickly, and never sustains major injuries. The fights are terrifying, sure, and Chanyeol feels Kyungsoo's absence even more acutely afterwards when his guide isn't there to check on him and ground him when his breathing gets too fast, but Chanyeol is actually kind of proud of himself. He's surviving.

(He does have one small panic attack when he runs into two SCABs and gets jabbed in his lower back and he thinks for several minutes that it's a stinger until he realizes his _injured_ timer has stopped flashing. It takes him several minutes longer to start breathing normally again and his vision goes a little black at the edges, but he picks himself up eventually and Kyungsoo never has to hear about it.)

He finds his second portion of fungus around 7:30, in a crater guarded by four level 2 SCABs that Chanyeol dispatches efficiently (and by that, he means with minimal internal screaming). "' _Don't travel in packs'_ my ass, Joonmyun," he mutters as he stoops to gather the _venena_ carefully. One more to go.

The last portion, of course, is elusive. With two and a half hours left of daylight, Chanyeol covers every crater within a five-minute jog of the edge of the Wastelands, then tentatively starts venturing slightly further out. He runs into more SCABs, gets slightly lost in a slow-moving fume cloud that obscures his vision for close to five minutes (and thank god for the compass on his visor after that), kills a dozen more vicious snakes. He gets bitten twice, but thankfully all it does is cause his _injured_ timer to flash for several minutes and the affected limb to burn violently until the venom wears off on its own. (They're both snake bites, not SCAB stings, so he tries to avoid the latter in case it's worse.) His HP drops down to 55%, but he still feels like he's not that close to death.

It's actually sort of mindless work, this searching business. Chanyeol is used to this—walking and walking for hours on end—but without even Kyungsoo around to distract his thoughts, he finds his mind wandering. To Kyungsoo, mostly. The sky is growing darker above him, flat and cloudless, and Chanyeol thinks about how this is only the third time he's been away from his guide since he found himself in this game. And one of those times was the ten-minute venture into Yixing's old camp. Of course it's natural for him to be thinking about Kyungsoo at this time. Kyungsoo is all he's got. Kyungsoo is practically Chanyeol's whole world right now.

He'd thought Chanyeol would leave him behind. As if Chanyeol would be able to.

He spends a while, in between minor battles and brief investigations of craters, adding up how many hours he's spent with Kyungsoo since he met him. Eight whole days, plus eighteen of today. Minus maybe one hour in the mayor's house in Murus. And ten minutes in Yixing's camp. He struggles a bit with mental math, takes a break to kill the snake that darts out at him from the dust, and comes up with 208 hours and 50 minutes, give or take. Over 200 hours together. Minus eight nights of sleeping, so maybe...135 hours of conscious time together. That's still a lot. And it feels like even more, what with the passage of time here and all.

They don't talk much, though. Chanyeol hardly knows anything about Kyungsoo, despite spending most of those 135 hours with him one-on-one. He knows that he's been in Paran for two years. He knows he studied psychology at Dongguk before that. He has parents and a brother (and they're not dead). His hair isn't red in real life. He looks up game walkthroughs before he buys them. He's emotionally unstable, but he hides it for Chanyeol's sake. He's careful, caring, but he has a sharp tongue. He's serious, but when he smiles, it makes warmth bloom in Chanyeol's chest. His presence makes Chanyeol feel safe and protected, even though Kyungsoo can't defend him. He brings Chanyeol down from a panic attack by pressing his fingers into the back of his neck, covers the blood on Chanyeol's skin until it heals, distracts him from all the pain he can't feel himself. He feels like he's breaking, but he still makes sure Chanyeol is okay before he thinks about himself.

He's amazing, and he doesn't give himself enough credit, and Chanyeol feels choked up for a few minutes until a pair of level 2 SCABs rushes him from a nearby crater and he drops his train of thought in favour of saving his own skin.

Afterwards, though, waiting for a gash above his knee to heal, he tells himself firmly, _I'm not leaving without him._ It's never even been an option.


	13. Chapter 13

By the time Chanyeol finds a third portion of _venena_ and makes it back to the edge of the Wastelands, it’s a few minutes past nightfall, and he feels exhausted. With the dangerous work out of the way, he doesn’t feel the need to boost his HP, which had dropped to 15 before he took a 20% boost an hour earlier, and is now back down to 22. It’s been a long day—the evening alone has felt like an entire day all on its own—and he’s feeling jumpy and on edge from all the fighting and panicking he’s been doing, without Kyungsoo nearby to calm him down or tell him what to do. He trudges back to the village slowly, staying alert for the sound of impending danger but thinking more about how relieved he’ll be to get that mask and go to bed. Bed sounds nice right now. 

He’s expecting, in the back of his mind, for Kyungsoo and Joonmyun to be waiting for him exactly where he left them, because that’s just what happens in video games. What he is not expecting is for his often-silent, usually-stoic guide to bodily _fling_ himself at Chanyeol when he returns. 

“Oh my _god_ ,” Kyungsoo says, squeezing Chanyeol so hard around the middle that he feels it even through his armour. “I thought you were dead.”

“I—oh.” Chanyeol blinks, looking down at Kyungsoo’s mop of red hair. His own arms twitch, lifting to wrap around Kyungsoo in response and then aborting. “I’m not?”

Kyungsoo doesn’t relax his hold or move his face from where it’s pressed against Chanyeol’s shoulder, his whole body pressed up against Chanyeol’s. It can’t be particularly comfortable—Chanyeol is covered almost head-to-toe in hard plating—but his body is solid and warm and Chanyeol wants to melt against it. He’s had a hard, lonely, terrifying day, and Kyungsoo’s touch, given so sparingly, is like a balm for Chanyeol’s nerves. 

“I told you to come back well before nightfall, you moron,” his guide says, voice rough. “I _told_ you not to get yourself killed because of me. Do you know how fucking worried I was the whole time you were gone? Who _knows_ what kind of idiotic things you get up to while I’m not around to stop you and _fuck_ , it started getting dark and you still weren’t back and the Wastelands are absolute shit and—”

Chanyeol can’t help the grin that breaks out across his face, finally giving in and curling his arms around Kyungsoo to squeeze him in return. “Hey,” he says, cutting him off, swallowing hard. “I’m alive. I’m okay. Look how alive I am, I barely did anything stupid out there. I’m a big boy now.” He pauses, then adds, “But there’s still no fucking way I’m going back out there without you.”

Kyungsoo laughs, and it sounds a little weak and shaky. His fingers find the gap between the plates of armour covering his back and press into the fabric there, and Chanyeol feels warmth radiate from that spot, spreading across his whole body. He would press closer, if it were physically possible. This is the best and most-needed goddamn hug Chanyeol has received in what feels like years. 

As it is, he lets go of Kyungsoo just to tug off his helmet, because it’s annoying and in the way, and then he leans back in to press his cheek to the side of Kyungsoo’s head, curling around him in every way he knows how. It feels kind of heavenly. 

“This reunion is super cute and all,” Joonmyun says, wryly amused, from where he’s leaning against a nearby wall, “but we haven’t even asked Chanyeol if his mission was successful yet.”

“Shut up,” Chanyeol says without heat, too tired and content to feel embarrassed or to even consider letting go. “I got it.”

“Yeah?” Kyungsoo says, beginning to pull away, but Chanyeol tightens his hold, digging his fingers into Kyungsoo’s back to keep him in place. 

“No, no, don’t leave. You thought I was dead a second ago, remember? Stay.” Chanyeol presses Kyungsoo to his chest, and he’s glad for his armour, because it means that Kyungsoo probably can’t hear his heartbeat, which is a little too fast to be normal. He doesn’t want this hug to end, because it feels amazing, but also because he’s a little scared of what he’ll see on Kyungsoo’s face when he pulls away. 

Kyungsoo doesn’t resist, falling back against him and thumping him gently on the back, breathing in deep. “I was really scared,” he says quietly, so quietly that Chanyeol almost doesn’t hear him, and it makes his heart clench. 

“The game would have reset if he died,” Joonmyun says unhelpfully, and Kyungsoo just shakes his head where he tucks it up underneath Chanyeol’s chin, and Chanyeol smiles against his hair and tries not to think about all the emotions swirling around his chest, making his stomach squeeze in a way that’s uncomfortably familiar. This _really_ isn’t the time or place. He’s in a video game, for god’s sake. He really couldn’t find a worse time to have...feelings. 

When Kyungsoo finally does pull away, it’s to look Chanyeol over, even though all of the physical injuries he sustained in the Wastelands have long since healed (the trauma, on the other hand, is another matter entirely). And if Chanyeol shivers involuntarily when Kyungsoo swipes a thumb under the neckline of his bodysuit to rub away a line of dust that’s collected there, well, nobody mentions it, and Chanyeol certainly isn’t about to.

Clearing his throat as Kyungsoo pulls off his gauntlets and gloves to look at his hands (and please, God, don’t let Kyungsoo tell him to strip), Chanyeol says, “So, Joonmyun, is it too late for me to trade in this stuff for the mask?” He jerks his free thumb at his backpack, where the gathered _venena_ is probably contaminating all his stuff. 

Joonmyun looks at him over Kyungsoo’s shoulder, smiling in a way that makes Chanyeol’s face warm. “No, you should be able to catch her,” he says mildly. 

“Tonight yet, Chanyeol? Really?” Kyungsoo says, frowning. 

“I’ll feel better if I have it in my hands,” Chanyeol insists. 

They make the fairly short walk to the same dark, sketchy alleyway from before, and it’s even creepier at night, when everything is lit by flickering yellow streetlights. Chanyeol definitely doesn’t like it, but Kyungsoo’s sticking close beside him, their arms brushing as they move through the poorly-lit streets, and that definitely takes the edge off the feeling of danger that surrounds them. 

It’s eerily quiet, too, but they make it to where Viper is still leaning against the wall in her tight clothes and heavy boots. “Back so soon?” she croons as they approach, tilting her chin up with a smile. 

Chanyeol shifts his pack on his shoulders, glancing through the short list of speaking options in front of him before saying, “I got what you asked for.”

Viper pushes off the wall, sharp eyebrows lifting. “Really? Let’s see it.”

Chanyeol swings his backpack off and digs around gently for the three portions, panicking slightly when it takes him a few moments to locate the third. But they’re all there and accounted for, and he sighs in relief, presenting them proudly. 

“Hmm, well, I have to say, I’m impressed. That’s exactly what I wanted. Here you go, the mask you wanted.” She pulls it out of the bag at her feet, walking forward to exchange the fungus for the mask. Chanyeol curls his fingers around the black strap and pulls it close to his body, ready to just take it and run. Somehow, despite everything, this whole mission has seemed a little too easy. He spent hours getting those portions of _venena_ , sacrificed a lot of time and HP for it, but it still feels like this is too good to be true. Not enough blood and sweat have been shed, or something. 

Which is why he’s barely even surprised when the next words out of Viper’s mouth are, “By the way, you might not want to put that thing on and head into the Wastelands straightaway—you might run into a nasty problem.”

Chanyeol stares at her, then at his speech options. “What do you mean?” he reads off briskly.

Viper’s smirk makes Chanyeol grit his teeth, even though he knows she’s not a real person. “Oh, didn’t I tell you?” she asks, sounding like she _knows_ she didn’t. “It’s missing a filter. You didn’t think I’d only ask for _three_ portions of _venena_ for a working mask, did you? Those go for a lotta money in these parts.”

Chanyeol growls wordlessly, tired frustration building in his chest. Can’t anything just go _right_ for once? “Where can I get a filter?” he spits, choosing the least aggressive of his speech options even though he kind of wants to swear at her. 

Viper’s still smirking, and Chanyeol would consider pulling out his blaster (not to shoot, just to do some menacing posturing) if he didn’t think it might end with him getting his ass kicked. This lady looks like she knows her way around a weapon. “Well, there’s a dump out by the west edge of the village, if you wanna dig around out there for one that still works. Things like that get trashed sometimes. And if not that, I’ll trade you a new filter for ten usable parts you can scrounge up.”

Chanyeol closes his eyes and takes a deep, calming breath. He goes through his speech options quickly; one tries to talk her down to five parts, another contains a bit too much aggression for Chanyeol’s comfort, and the last accepts his fate without a fight. He tentatively tries the first, but Viper is firm in her pricing. “It’s only fair, handsome; those parts wouldn’t be in the trash if they weren’t nearly useless.”

In the end, Chanyeol asks Joonmyun if he’d be able to buy a filter on his own, and gets the response, “You could, but it’d cost you a safe night in a hostel. You’d have to pick one or the other.” And Chanyeol really isn’t willing to give that up. 

So he resigns himself to spending the next day in the dump and lets Joonmyun lead them back to the place they’d stayed the previous night, feeling frustrated but not overly anxious. As far as he knows, the dump isn’t particularly dangerous; just a hassle to dig through. 

“I’m assuming it’ll be harder to find the parts in, you know, real life. If you can call it that,” Kyungsoo tells him with a sigh as they make their way back to the hostel, still pressed unusually close together. Kyungsoo’s barely backed off for a second since Chanyeol returned. “Playing the game, you’d just walk around until you found the stuff, but _inside_ the game, I doubt it’ll be quite that simple. I’ve never had a hero do this specific side-quest before, but I’ve done ones like it. They’re always frustratingly true to life. A lot of sifting through trash.”

“Awesome,” Chanyeol mutters, paying for the room with most of his remaining money. He starts stripping off his armour as soon as they’re inside, grimacing at the feeling of Wasteland dust shifting under his bodysuit, and he peels off the upper half like he had the previous night, wiping at his skin unhappily. “I’m so psyched for that.”

Kyungsoo glances at him, then away. “Go to sleep, get some rest. You had a long day.”

“Ugh, you can say that again.” Chanyeol makes a face, then completely peels away the rest of his bodysuit. It’s the first time he’s changed out of it since the whole R-Guard armour fiasco back in Murus, and he’s a little surprised to see the black boxer briefs he’s wearing underneath. Sometimes he forgets he’s wearing anything at all under there. The suit itself has started to sort of just feel like his skin. He dumps his clothes in a pile at the edge of the room and rolls out his bed mat, then sits crisscross on top of it, stretching his arms over his head. “I really love full-moon buildings, have I mentioned that?”

“It’s amazing, how you take feeling completely safe for granted in the real world,” Joonmyun agrees wryly from across the room. “You get into this game and suddenly absolute safety is an enormous luxury.”

“It’s beautiful,” Chanyeol sighs. He turns to Kyungsoo, who, to his mild surprise, is rolling out his mat right next to Chanyeol’s. He stretches out his hand to him, saying, “What are my stats like this, Soo, I can’t see them without my helmet on. My defense is probably super low.”

Kyungsoo just smacks Chanyeol’s hand aside gently. “Go to bed, Yeol,” he says tiredly. “I want to forget this day ever happened.”

Chanyeol blinks at him. “What did you just call me?”

Kyungsoo looks at him for a moment, then quickly away. Chanyeol thinks—Chanyeol thinks he might be _blushing_. “ _Sleep,_ ” is all his guide says, very pointedly. 

“You heard what he called me, right?” Chanyeol says, looking up at Joonmyun, who’s grinning quietly. “I’m not going to forget this.”

“You are so annoying,” Kyungsoo mutters, lying down under his blanket and closing his eyes. 

Chanyeol grins. There have been very few highlights to this day, but this has certainly been one of them. That, and the hug earlier. Chanyeol might go in for another one right now, actually, if he wasn’t almost completely naked. Which...suddenly he wants to be covered up very badly. He crawls under his blanket, still smiling, and sighs. “Goodnight, Soo,” he sings, reaching out to grab the nearest body part—Kyungsoo’s upper arm, he thinks—and squeezes. Then, less obnoxiously, he adds, “Night Joonmyun.”

“Goodnight,” Joonmyun says with a laugh, flicking off the lights. 

“Night,” he hears Kyungsoo whisper, and Chanyeol chuckles before he lets himself drop off to sleep, feeling a warm tightness in his chest that he’s not quite willing to get into just yet. 

 

The dump, located exactly where Viper had said it would be (so at least she’s not _completely_ full of shit), is just...a dump. They have to pick their way through some dank, trash-littered alleyways to get there, slinking nervously past stooped, raggedly-dressed figures lurking in the shadows, but once they’re there, it’s not all that creepy. 

The place is surrounded by a rusted wire fence that has a large opening slashed into it that’s easy to slip through, and the rest of it is in open air, with the sun beating down on them and a dry breeze blowing through. It’s not a huge dump—it’s not like the village is that big, either—but there are five or six enormous mounds of rusting, broken garbage, with more trash scattered in between, and Chanyeol sighs heavily as he prepares to get to work. 

“It’s fairly easy to recognize the parts you’re looking for,” Kyungsoo tells him, standing just behind Chanyeol’s left shoulder. “They’ll be a bit cleaner than the rest of the crap out here, and if you have your visor down, a description box will pop up when you pick one up. The trick is, of course, _finding_ them in the first place.”

“Okay,” Chanyeol sighs, already tired at the prospect. He kicks a bit at a few rusted cans and broken bottles, nudges at some bundles of frayed wires and cracked motherboards with the toe of his boot, then tries to decide where to begin. He glances over at Joonmyun, who hovers nearby, and asks, “What are you doing here, anyway?”

Joonmyun shrugs, offering a small smile. “Nothing better to do. The game’s letting me follow you around, and that’s more interesting than, you know, not talking to anyone.”

Chanyeol blinks. He hasn’t really...thought that much about the people he’s left behind in the game so far. He’d kind of figured they’d just, you know, stopped existing once he’d moved past them, like you assume characters do in video games. Without Chanyeol around to stir up their lives, what are they doing? They have no one with intelligent minds to talk to. They have no company. They have no _purpose_ , so they’re just...existing. Alone. 

Chanyeol’s stomach clenches. “It must get lonely,” he says gruffly, not quite able to meet Joonmyun’s gaze. It’s not often that he feels _lucky_ , being placed as a hero in this game. But at least he’s constantly interacting with people. At least Kyungsoo has him, usually, and Chanyeol moves from one person to the next, even if he didn’t have his guide. 

He feels Kyungsoo’s hand at his elbow again, squeezing, and Joonmyun just gives a short, humourless laugh and says, “Yeah, you could say that.”

Chanyeol clears his throat, swallowing hard. “Well. Down to work.” He glances back, and Kyungsoo gives him a reassuring nod. Something that’s best not to dwell on, then. “Joonmyun, come talk to me. I think Soo is sick of me by now.”

He knows no one will buy his excuse, because Chanyeol is nothing if not unsubtle in everything he does, but Joonmyun walks over willingly, a smile on his face as he says, “I seriously doubt that.” 

So they chat as Chanyeol begins his search, digging through heaps of garbage and picking up anything that looks remotely usable. Chanyeol only half-registers their conversation most of the time, talking about the weather in Paran, and whether it makes sense that Kyungsoo can feel pressure but not pain, and how cliched on a scale of 1 to 10 this game’s storyline is so far (Chanyeol gives it a generous 5, but Kyungsoo goes for an unimpressed 8). They talk, and Chanyeol instinctively makes every joke that pops into his head, and sometimes they’re a little insensitive, sometimes he accidentally crosses lines that he shouldn’t, but most of the time Joonmyun is laughing, and Kyungsoo is hiding smiles behind his hand, and it’s kind of nice. Nothing’s trying to kill him. The work isn’t hard, even if it’s monotonous and boring. It almost feels like a break. 

He pulls out a small, unbroken motherboard about fifteen minutes into the search, and a sparkplug and an engine cylinder of some sort about twenty minutes after that. A couple, brokenish things aren’t usable for the whole trade thing, but Kyungsoo tells him he can sell them for a bit of extra cash later, so he stashes those away, too. He doesn’t find any filters, but with his progress an hour into the search, he feels pretty good about this endeavour. 

An hour and a half after reaching the dump, Chanyeol’s bag is full of tradeable and sellable junk, so he makes a quick trip into the market to sell what he can’t give to Viper, and although most of it is almost worthless, he still feels better knowing he has enough money to buy another hotel stay or two. He offers to go alone to sell his things, but Kyungsoo refuses point-blank, sticking close beside him as he finds the merchants he’d sold to the previous day. 

Chanyeol had woken up face-to-face with his guide that morning, not touching but close enough that he could have leaned in and...well. If he’d wanted to. But he didn’t, of course, and Kyungsoo had opened his eyes a moment later, and it had reminded Chanyeol of the moment inside Joonmyun’s boat, squeezed into his secret hold, and the shiver that had run down Chanyeol’s spine at Kyungsoo’s careful touch. Chanyeol felt that same pull in his stomach again, looking at Kyungsoo’s wide eyes, his full lips, bathed in morning sunlight. 

Bad, bad, bad. 

They sell the stuff, and then it’s back to the garbage piles. He starts sifting again, trying to keep his mind off of...feelings, and lips, and stuff like that. Those are not thoughts he should be having while he’s trying to save a fictional world, or whatever. 

Now he knows what Kyungsoo means about trying not to get too attached to heroes. Except Chanyeol’s already gone and taken it a step too far. He was attached to Kyungsoo the moment they met, if he’s being honest with himself. 

The search continues as such, slow and boring, for several hours. Chanyeol chats with Joonmyun and Kyungsoo in the meantime, complains about how long it’s taking him to find anything he can trade, complains about this mission in general, and the fact that Scumbag Viper screwed him over in the first place. He climbs all over piles of junk and kicks stuff around, crouching to investigate when something looks mildly promising, and makes another trip into town to sell things. He and Joonmyun have a long conversation centering around how similar to Han Solo Joonmyun may or may not be (“My neckline is not plunging!”), and somewhere in the midst of it, Chanyeol unearths a power distributor. 

It takes him until noon—nearly five hours of ceaseless labour—to find nine working parts to trade Viper. It is, of course, only after this long and this much work that Chanyeol spots something sticking out of an old, broken toolbox, and, yep. It’s a filter. Biting his tongue, he gets out the mask given to him by Viper the previous night, and the filter slides right into the slot. He breathes out a slow, heavy breath. “Well. That solves _that_ problem.”

Kyungsoo looks mildly stunned beside him. “I can’t believe you found me a mask.”

Chanyeol grins at him, reaching over to slip the contraption over Kyungsoo’s mouth and nose. It’s a pretty sleek thing, if a bit grimy; the straps are black but the triangular mouthpiece is chrome with slits along the sides for speakers (and, presumably, to let in air to filter). It hums gently as it works, and Chanyeol doesn’t like that he can’t see Kyungsoo’s mouth, but he’s pretty sure that he’s smiling. 

“So what do I do with the rest of this stuff?” Chanyeol asks, jerking his thumb towards his pack, where his collected goods are. He’s so relieved that he has a mask and it’s _working_ and _he won’t have to leave Kyungsoo behind_ that he can’t even feel annoyed about doing all that work for nothing. 

“Sell it,” Joonmyun says promptly. “It’ll get you more than a couple pennies, like the other stuff. And let’s face it, if you run into another emergency right now, you’d be screwed.”

Chanyeol grins ruefully. “So I’m guessing I shouldn’t use the money to buy a bigger pack or something?”

“Later,” Kyungsoo says, voice just slightly distorted through the mask. “If you ever have cash to burn.”

“Alright,” Chanyeol huffs, and leads the way back to the market, a new spring in his step. He figures he’s allowed to feel a little optimistic right now, after all he’s been through. 

“You’re an idiot,” Kyungsoo tells him, punching his shoulder lightly, and Chanyeol is 99% positive that’s Kyungsoo-speak for _thank you._

 

Chanyeol is not going to miss the riverside village when he leaves, but he _is_ going to miss the relative safety of its hostels and readily available shelter, and he’s especially going to miss Joonmyun. He knows he has to leave their friend behind now. For real this time. 

“I’ll see you around,” Joonmyun tells Chanyeol, once again at the edge of the village, facing the Wastelands. It’s just about 1:00, and they have a long day of walking ahead of them. 

“No you won’t,” Chanyeol says with a grim smile. 

Joonmyun chuckles. “No I won’t,” he agrees. “Not for a while, at least.”

“Take care, Joonmyun, alright?” Chanyeol says, furrowing his brows in concern. 

“Same to you,” Joonmyun replies smoothly, nodding towards the unpleasant land before them. “Go, you know, save the world.”

“I’m gonna try to get you out of here,” Chanyeol promises, chest squeezing. 

“I know you will.” Joonmyun smiles and nods slowly. “Good luck.”

“Bye, Joonmyun,” Kyungsoo says softly, shaking his hand as he passes by. “Hold on, yeah?”

“Of course,” Joonmyun says gruffly. “And if you see Xing again—”

“Of course,” Kyungsoo parrots; quickly, like he’s trying to cut Joonmyun off. “I know.”

Joonmyun just closes his mouth and nods, glancing at Chanyeol briefly. Chanyeol knows what he means, saying _If you meet him again._ If Kyungsoo meets Yixing again, it’ll be with another hero. And another hero means Chanyeol would have failed. _If Chanyeol dies…_

Chanyeol’s not going to let that happen. 

“Alright, let’s go,” he says briskly, gesturing towards the Wastelands. “You’re sure you have nothing left to tell us?”

“Nothing,” Joonmyun confirms, settling back into his character role. “You’re on your own now.”

“Okay. Alright. Here we go.”

And they go. Kyungsoo has his mask on, covering his mouth and nose, and Chanyeol has his visor down, and they plunge into the unforgiving landscape, with Chanyeol’s hand on his sword hilt. When he turns around a minute later, Joonmyun is still standing there, watching them, and Chanyeol waves briefly, heart heavy. _You’re doing this for his sake, too,_ he reminds himself. 

He’s glad, suddenly, that he’s already been in the Wastelands before. When a snake lunges at him from the dust, Chanyeol is barely even fazed, severing its head from its body with a single, instinctive swipe of his blade. When a pair of two Level 3 SCABs explode out of a nearby crater, Chanyeol is practically expecting it, and he fights them off with little harm to himself. And it’s better now, with Kyungsoo here. Kyungsoo sticks close to his side except for when he’s fighting, and then afterwards he’s back, asking him if he’s okay. Chanyeol isn’t quite sure how to say, “I’m feeling _great_ ,” without sounding like a lunatic. Although maybe he is one. 

Kyungsoo is feeling chattier again, now that they’re on the move and he isn’t in immediate danger of being left behind (and Chanyeol assumes that _is_ the reason why Kyungsoo had been so withdrawn for a while there, besides the river bringing back unpleasant memories). They discuss why the Wasteland fumes affect lungs but not, apparently, Kyungsoo’s eyes (though neither of them has any way of knowing the real answer), and Chanyeol gleans a few small, probably-useless bits of information about the war that started it all. 

“I don’t know a lot about the events leading up to it,” Kyungsoo confesses as they walk along, his voice sounding a bit reedy through the softly whirring mask. He squints against a small cloud of dust that passes over them. “I was like...15 at the time, I think, but my parents were really protective. Like, they didn’t tell me shit. My memories of my in-game childhood are really hazy, though, so maybe they told me more than I remember? I don’t know. The game gods didn’t bother giving me memories earlier than like 13, so it’s all very vague. It’s pretty confusing.” Kyungsoo shoots him a slightly sheepish look. “Sorry, I’m making it sound like it was...real. I guess, if I don’t remember it, there was nothing to remember, right? The memories are manufactured, so...yeah. Game gods didn’t think it was necessary for me to know the history of the war, I guess. I mean, I know the basics, I told you about the tension between the political parties and stuff but, whatever. I don’t remember much from firsthand experience. I was sheltered. Not that...I mean, not that I was really _there_ , but in my _memories_ —”

“Soo,” Chanyeol says gently, cutting him off. “I know what you mean, don’t worry.”

Kyungsoo lets out a slow breath. “Sorry. Sometimes I’m just, I’m just trying to get it sorted in my _own_ brain. Things get kind of jumbled up in there, with dual memories and some of it being real and some not real and some even _less_ real because I didn’t actually live it, and just—” He cuts off again. “Sorry. It’s hard.”

“I understand,” Chanyeol murmurs, reaching out to pull his guide to his side briefly, giving him a squeeze before letting him go. Kyungsoo continues walking close to him. 

They take a short break from conversation so that Chanyeol can deal with a few bots that come careening at him out of a nearby crater, and then Kyungsoo resumes where he left off, like nothing had happened. 

“So yeah, I don’t know a whole lot about the details of the war firsthand. I mean, my parents and brother were killed, like, right before it really broke out, so I was a little preoccupied with trying to get as far away from the fighting as I could. They’d mentioned stuff, you know, when they were talking about rebel things and I overheard them. Just stuff about a couple prototypes before MAISS was created, some plans to steal the second one. But they never told me things directly. I don’t think they wanted me to know anything about it. Like I said, protective.”

Chanyeol hums vaguely. He can tell talking about his in-game past makes Kyungsoo uncomfortable and flustered, and he doesn’t seem to know anything important anyway, so Chanyeol drops the subject. “Why’d the bulk of the war happen here?” he asks instead, and Kyungsoo launches into a short history of Paran’s politics that is eventually interrupted by a SCAB attack. After that they move onto lighter subjects, because the Wastelands are miserable enough without talk of death and cold-blood murder. 

Of course, completely unsurprisingly, the Wastelands get more dangerous the further into them they get. By 6:00, they’re about a quarter of the way through, according to Chanyeol’s map, and suddenly things start getting more serious. Until now, there have been the usual snakes and SCABs, levels 1 through 3, never in groups large enough to make Chanyeol fear for his life. Dust and fume clouds, too, though those are more of a hindrance than a real threat. Chanyeol feels like the Wastelands are plenty dangerous enough—after five hours, he’s at 50% HP after one boost—but no, of course that’s not it. 

The first difference between then and now are the bodies. Chanyeol almost has a panic attack the first time he sees one, sprawled out on the sand, mostly just bones wrapped in dry, tattered clothing. He retches as he draws near and Kyungsoo murmurs to him about hundreds of bodies just being left out in the warzone, rotting away as people steered clear of the robot-infested lands. Now, of course, the majority of the bodies are picked clean of anything of worth by Vultures, people scavenging off this desolate land to sell what was abandoned in the retreat. Chanyeol finds nothing on any of the bodies he comes across, even though he tries, despite the overwhelming urge to vomit every time he sees one. 

Of course, that’s not enough to make Chanyeol fear for his life, and therefore the Wastelands feel the need to kick it up a notch. 

The new, orange-eyed robot-monster-thing that rises out of a crater would probably reach Chanyeol’s hip, if he let it come close enough, and it has yellow electricity sparking from its blade-like front arms. Which is just great, really. Chanyeol has been dying to be electrocuted. 

The altercation is panic-filled and exhausting, and Chanyeol wants to forget it as soon as it’s over. “Well, I survived,” he says from the ground after the whole ordeal has passed, and his voice is slightly rough following some very unmanly shrieking. He’s glad Kyungsoo can’t see his face with his visor down, because there are actual tears running down his cheeks, the result of a couple excruciatingly painful electric jolts. They hadn’t done much to his HP, thankfully, even if they’d frozen him in place for a few moments, but he’s still embarrassed about it. Kyungsoo just squeezes the back of his neck wordlessly and helps him back to his feet with a hand on his elbow. 

“The Level 4 SCABs will try to drag you back to their lairs in the craters,” he tells Chanyeol as they start walking again. “Don’t let that happen.”

“Has it happened before?” Chanyeol asks, tugging nervously at his gauntlets, which had been jarred loose when the bot had swiped at his hands. He hates that the SCABs keep getting bigger, because it means they can reach more vulnerable body parts. 

“Yes,” Kyungsoo says shortly. “It’s not something you come back from.”

Chanyeol bites his lip, uncertain if he wants an answer but still asking, “How many lasted—”

“Four up to this point, lost one here in the Wastelands, another on the alternate route if you’d taken the bridge,” Kyungsoo says briskly, eyes hard as they stare straight ahead. 

Chanyeol gulps and doesn’t pursue the matter further. 

He meets more SCABs and snakes and bodies as the day stretches into evening, and lo and behold, the snakes get bigger and more aggressive. When one of them manages to sink its fangs into Chanyeol’s leg _through his armour,_ his entire lower half burns with fiery intensity for five solid minutes. It’s possibly the most painful thing Chanyeol has ever experienced, and he decides that yeah, he really needs to step up his defense game. (As it is, his knowledge has been bumped up to 50, and his combat up to 90, but his defense remains stubbornly at 60, along with his stealth.) 

They run into a few more Level 4 SCABs, and Chanyeol deals with them all with varying levels of efficiency, taking another 20% HP boost to keep him around 50%. He thinks he’s doing pretty well for himself, having covered about a third of the Wastelands in a single day and never come too close to dying, until he realizes that he only has an hour of daylight left, and all he can see on every side of him is more sand and craters. “Um, Soo?” he asks, fidgeting nervously. “Where am I supposed to stay the night?”

“I don’t know, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo says, voice tight in that way that says he’s either not allowed to say anything, or _really_ scared. Or, more likely, both. 

“Oh shit,” Chanyeol says, swallowing hard. “Am I going to have to keep moving through the night?”

Kyungsoo’s fingers flex nervously. “Just keep walking,” he says crisply. 

“I don’t think I have enough HP boosters to last me through days _and_ nights, especially not if my HP drops faster at night,” Chanyeol says, feeling a bit of panic creep into his chest. “I only have two of the 20% boosts and two of the 50% ones. I don’t think it’ll be enough, Soo.”

“Chanyeol. Keep. _Walking_.” Kyungsoo’s eyes are fixed ahead of them, but Chanyeol can’t see anything, especially not in the dwindling light. 

They keep moving, their footfalls loud in the suddenly deafening silence of the Wastelands around them. Nothing moves, and Chanyeol tenses more and more as the minutes tick by. His grip tightens around the hilt of his sword until it almost hurts. 

A thick dust cloud forms suddenly, obscuring their vision, and Chanyeol stops to wait it out, not particularly anxious until Kyungsoo whispers, “Oh, _shit._ ” 

And then Chanyeol is scared. He looks around wildly, but he’s completely blind, he can barely see _Kyungsoo_ a foot away from him, there’s sand swirling against his helmet and dust sliding into the crevices of his armour. He flails nervously until he realizes the ground is shifting beneath his feet. “Soo!” he yells, panicking, but the cracked sand under his feet is suddenly like liquid, and he sinks into it up to his thighs despite his frantic attempts at escape. “Soo, what do I do?”

Kyungsoo doesn’t respond, but the dust cloud clears abruptly, and Chanyeol thinks for a moment that he might be okay, until a familiar sound like metal rending cuts through the air. He turns as much as he can, heart skipping a horrified beat, and sees a pair of five-foot-tall robotic spiders advancing on him slowly, like a scene straight out of Futuristic Dystopian Harry Potter. 

“Oh my god,” Chanyeol says, surprised his voice even works when his entire chest feels like a cold, black abyss of fear. 

He can’t move. His limbs are frozen, and even if they weren’t, he’s stuck almost up to his waist in quicksand, and he can’t even turn to properly face his foes. He knows he’s at their mercy. He’s trapped. He can’t get out of this one. 

_I tried really hard,_ he tells himself, choking on his own terror. The spiders draw closer, making terrible sounds. _I tried my best to win. I tried so hard._

 _Not hard enough,_ says a voice in the back of his head, and he closes his eyes and waits for the first blow.


	14. Chapter 14

When Chanyeol’s vision goes black, he initially thinks it’s because he’s passed out. 

He’s confused when his sight returns, and the scene has changed. He feels sort of woozy and faraway, a mixture of shock and disorientation, and it takes him several moments to realize he’s looking at the _same_ scene, but from a different, bird’s-eye perspective. He’s having an out-of-body experience. 

This is a cutscene. 

He watches with muted, distant horror as the big robotic spiders bash him over the head, and by the way his body slumps, he assumes that now he’s _really_ unconscious. Kyungsoo, beside him, goes down too. It’s the first time Chanyeol’s seen Kyungsoo get injured in any way, and it’s somehow more jarring than watching himself get clobbered. 

There’s a loud blast, and one of the spiders screeches in a way that sounds kind of muffled to Chanyeol’s out-of-body ears, one of its legs smoking. Then there are two figures approaching out of nowhere, and yelling, and more loud blasts, and one of them has a flamethrower. It’s pandemonium for a few moments, full of striking shots of masked men toting huge guns and outraged spider-robots. And then it’s over. 

The spider bots twitch and die, dissolving into pixels, and the mysterious arrivals pull Chanyeol and Kyungsoo out of the sand as Ghost-Chanyeol watches from a distance. There seems to be a brief conversation, which is too vague and quiet for Chanyeol to really hear, and then hands are being curled into his collar and his body is dragged bodily across the sand. At the back of his mind, he thinks that should be harder than it looks, because both of these guys look smaller than Chanyeol, but the one pulling him acts like he weighs nothing. 

Eventually, a sand-coloured tent pops up out of nowhere, and they’re dragged inside. He barely catches a glimpse of the half-moon above the door flap before the scene goes black again, and a quiet voice says, “We’ll keep them here for the night; we can deal with them when they wake up.” 

 

Chanyeol comes to with a gasp and a flailing arm, radiating panic. 

“Whoa, dude, relax! You almost poked my eye out.” 

“Where’s Kyungsoo?” Chanyeol demands, sitting up and yanking off his helmet like it’s suffocating him. That’s honestly what it feels like. 

“Calm down, relax. He’s fine, he’s right—oh, he’s waking up, right on schedule.”

Chanyeol doesn’t even glance at their captors—if that’s what they are—as he turns to look at Kyungsoo curling up and blinking groggily up at him. “Good morning to you too,” he says, voice thick. 

“Are you okay?” Chanyeol asks fervently, reaching out to brush Kyungsoo’s hair off his forehead, cradling his cheek briefly with armour-clad hands. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

Kyungsoo chuckles darkly. “I can’t feel pain, Chanyeol, remember? I just blacked out.”

A sigh of relief rushes out of Chanyeol’s lungs. Then, finally, he looks up at the two people in the tent with them. “Uh,” he says, blinking at their dirt-smeared faces and wild hair—one in magenta that may be vibrant beneath the layer of dust, the other in sombre black. Their hair seems to match their personalities, as the former beams widely, and the latter sits back near the corner, lips press together tightly. 

“Hi,” says Mr. Magenta brightly, sticking out a hand. “I’m Baekhyun. I saved your sorry ass back there.”

Chanyeol blinks some more. He still feels a bit out of it, which he thinks is warranted considering he just almost died, then was knocked out and dragged to a mysterious tent in the middle of the Wastelands. He knows there are many questions to ask, but for some reason the first thing he says is, “Were you the one with the bazooka blaster or the flamethrower?”

Baekhyun just grins. “The blaster’s mine,” he says, sounding proud. “She’s a beaut, isn’t she?” 

Chanyeol nods dumbly, then says, “You’re real.”

“I am! Lucky me, I know. Jongdae is, too, though you would have figured that out in a few seconds.” Baekhyun turns around to look at his partner, then promptly hisses out a breath and says, “Oh, fuck.”

“What?” Chanyeol says, his heart jumpstarting. He doesn’t feel ready for another fight this soon. 

“Jongdae, he— Sorry, this is only the second time someone’s gotten this far, I got excited and forgot—” Baekhyun swallows hard and gestures behind him. 

Jongdae, still in the corner, smiles weakly and lifts his right arm, which is bare from the shoulder down, like the sleeve’s been ripped off. A band of cloth is tied tightly above his elbow like a tourniquet, and below it, black veins trace his sun-brown skin, like someone’s replaced his blood with ink. There’s a puncture wound just above his wrist where they’re radiating from, black and dead. 

“Holy fuck,” Chanyeol whispers. “Are you okay?”

Baekhyun barks out a laugh. “Does he look okay to you?”

“What happened? What’s going on? I _just woke up, okay?_ ” 

Baekhyun sighs and runs a hand through his hair, and a small cloud of dust goes up. Chanyeol realizes for the first time that they’re breathing without masks on, but he puts it aside to ask later. “It’s the danger of the trade, you know? Scavenging out here. We all know we could get stung.”

“Stung by what?” Chanyeol asks, unable to look away from the gruesome sight of Jongdae’s affected arm. 

“Bots. The smaller ones just hurt like a bitch, but, well. The bigger ones.” Baekhyun gestures towards Jongdae, who’s visibly gritting his teeth as he clenches his hand tightly. “The poison’s fast-acting. The tourniquet is slowing it down, but it’s spreading fast. If it reaches his heart—”

“He’s going to die,” Chanyeol says, something painful catching in his chest. “And he’s real.”

“He’s going to die,” Baekhyun agrees in a whisper, and his face twists in fear. 

“You’re freaking Chanyeol out, Baekhyun,” Kyungsoo says suddenly, tone clipped. “He just woke up after a near-death experience. Can you give him a bit of time to recover?”

Baekhyun winces. “I’m sorry. I’m really— Hey. I’m Baekhyun. You already knew that.” He holds out his hand again. 

Chanyeol chuckles slightly, feeling winded. Everything is happening too fast. He can’t catch his breath. “Chanyeol,” he responds, taking the hand. Baekhyun’s stats are about on par with Chanyeol’s, though his knowledge is only at 40, and his stealth is up to 70. 

“Jongdae,” says the poisoned man weakly, offering a small smile. “Nice to meet you.”

Kyungsoo gives Jongdae a polite nod, but it’s obvious they barely know each other. Their friendship comes more from solidarity than familiarity. Then he turns to Chanyeol and says, “Are _you_ okay?”

Chanyeol thinks about that for a second. “I thought I was going to die.”

“Yeah, that cutscene is no fun,” Kyungsoo agrees. “They really try to freak you out.”

“ _You_ were trying to freak me out,” Chanyeol protests. “You sounded like you thought we were going to die, too!”

“I didn’t know!” Kyungsoo argues immediately. “I couldn’t have said anything even if I did, but I honestly didn’t know if we’d hit this cutscene again, or what. I’ve only gotten to this point _once_ before, Chanyeol. And the circumstances were slightly different, we were farther in that time. I just didn’t _know._ I was scared, too.” 

Chanyeol lets out a long, slow breath. “But we’re okay now,” he says, and it’s just as much a question as it is a statement. 

“Yeah,” Baekhyun answers for him. “Well, mostly. This is mine and Dae’s base; it’s filtered, it protects from scout scanners, it has a few rudimentary traps and alarms in case someone tries to attack us. It helps us stay alive. You’re about as safe as you can get out here.”

“You’re Vultures,” Chanyeol says, and that’s _not_ a question. “The Wasteland scavengers. You steal things from dead bodies.”

Baekhyun smiles wryly. “You do what you gotta do to survive,” he says. “And to be fair, I didn’t technically _choose_ this job. I’m a landscaper, for christ’s sake.”

It takes Chanyeol a moment to realize he’s referring to his real-life occupation. It’s so easy to forget that those exist. “Internet technician,” he offers ruefully. 

Jongdae bares his teeth in a bitter smile. “Registered nurse,” he says, and holds up his poisoned arm briefly. 

“Don’t you just love the sick humour of the game gods?” Chanyeol says, shaking his head as his stomach rolls. 

“He needs the antidote,” Baekhyun says suddenly, right back on track. “He needs it before the end of the day.”

“I’m assuming you don’t have any?” Chanyeol says with a wince. 

Baekhyun shakes his head, and Jongdae bites back a moan of pain in the background, head rolling back. “It’s—getting stung is fairly common out here. This isn’t the first time one of us has had it happen, not by a long shot. The bodies...they often have the ointment on them, you know, since they were getting stung a lot too in the war. We’ve been getting by on what we scavenge. But pickings are getting slim these days, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” Jongdae hisses again in the background, ending with a high whimper, and Baekhyun’s voice grows more urgent. “Chanyeol, look. I know we just met. And I know you’re eager to get wherever you’re going, to save the world and shit. But I need you to save him.”

Chanyeol’s throat goes tight. “What would I have to do?”

“We’re out of antidote. The poison’s spreading fast, and Jongdae won’t be able to move within the hour. I won’t leave him alone out here, I _can’t_ , it’s like inviting someone to come in and finish him off. I need you to find me more of the antidote, you need to go out searching for some, there _has_ to be more out there. I need you to find it for me.” Baekhyun swallows thickly, throat bobbing as Jongdae whimpers _oh god oh god_ behind him. “He’s all I’ve got out here,” he whispers. 

And damn if that doesn’t get Chanyeol right in the heart, because he just went on an equally ludicrous mission so that Kyungsoo could come with him across the Wastelands, and Kyungsoo’s life hadn’t even been in danger then. And Jongdae is a real person. If Chanyeol doesn’t get him this antidote, he could actually _die_. And that’s terrifying. 

And Baekhyun looks so genuinely torn up, so completely terrified of losing the only thing he’s holding onto out here in this desolate world, and Chanyeol can understand that, too.

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says on his next exhale. “Yeah, of course I’ll do it. Just give me the details.”

“You’re sure?” Kyungsoo says, eyeing him carefully. “We just gained consciousness, Chanyeol, you could take a few minutes to get yourself together, and—”

But Chanyeol waves him off. “I’m fine, Soo,” he says briskly. “Jongdae needs this stuff as soon as possible.”

A smile breaks out across Baekhyun’s face, tentative but hopeful. “You can borrow Dae’s flamethrower, if you want,” he suggests. “Or should I say, _‘It’s dangerous to go alone! Take this._ ’” He grins, hefting the weapon and holding it out. 

Chanyeol smiles despite himself. “Aren’t there copyright issues with that line?” he asks, balancing the flamethrower over his shoulder. 

“That’s not in my script,” Baekhyun assures him with a weak laugh. “The flamethrower, though, really. It’s super effective against the Level 5 bots—the spidery ones. They hate it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Chanyeol says, nodding. “And I’ll—I’ll see you later, yeah? When I come back. And we can talk more then.”

Baekhyun nods solemnly. “Thank you so much for this,” he says, and he sounds like he means it from the depths of his soul. “I don’t know what I’d do without—”

“I know,” Chanyeol says. “Kyungsoo, you coming?”

Kyungsoo sighs tiredly. “Yeah, of course,” he says, and they say their quick goodbyes and head out. 

 

“I’m getting really sick of looking for things,” Chanyeol says an hour later, when it begins to really warm up across the Wastelands and they’ve only come across a handful of bodies, all picked clean. 

“Would you rather kill a bunch of things to get the antidote?” Kyungsoo asks mildly. 

Chanyeol considers this, but only for a few seconds, and only because he’s _really_ sick of looking for things. “No,” he admits. “But I mean, technically I _am_ killing a bunch of things to get the antidote.” He just dealt with a trio of Level 3 SCABs a few minutes ago; the flamethrower had really come in handy. 

“Not as many as you’d be killing if that was the main point of your mission,” Kyungsoo assures him, and they keep walking. 

He _does_ start finding things on bodies after a few more tries, but none of them are the antidote; one extra battery for his blaster, a 20% HP booster, a box of five matches. One half-buried skeleton has a bag hooked over its bony shoulders, and although Chanyeol nearly pukes trying to get it off of the thing, he’s grateful once it’s in his hands, rough and worn as it may be, because it has a number of extra empty slots in the inventory. 

He meets a few more Level 4 SCABs, the orange-eyed monsters that try to zap him and drag him back to their lairs, and he deals with those pretty easily with the combination of the flamethrower and his sword. He runs into one more Level 5, and that is significantly more terrifying, but this time there is no quicksand or dust storm and he manages to kill it while only losing 14% of his HP, which he considers a great feat. Another Wasteland snake manages to bite him and Chanyeol swears up a storm, and Kyungsoo laughs at him, and that sort of makes things better. 

He and Kyungsoo chitchat idly at times and fall into lengthy silence at others, and Chanyeol makes his way through half-singing, half-humming the entire tracklist of his favourite album when he was 16. Kyungsoo joins him quietly for the chorus of the title track, and it makes both of them smile. It feels oddly normal, considering they’re in the middle of a war-wrecked desert looking for an antidote to cure a man in a video game. Chanyeol likes it. 

When Chanyeol launches into another rant about how much he already dislikes this mission, Kyungsoo casts him a sideways glance and says, “Well, you were awfully eager to start a couple hours ago.”

Chanyeol pauses and swallows hard, aiming for casual as he shrugs. “I can’t let him _die_ , Soo.”

“He has all day until that happens; you didn’t even take a couple minutes to ask questions or for advice.”

Chanyeol realises, now, that that may have been a good idea, because he’s just been walking aimlessly and hoping he’ll remember where Baekhyun and Jongdae’s tent was when and if he finds the antidote. He shrugs again. “I panicked a little. Baekhyun looked so scared that he was going to lose him, and I just...I knew how he felt, I guess.” He glances at Kyungsoo beside him, swallows again. “You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you? Jump at the chance to...to save me.”

Kyungsoo twitches visibly, keeping his gaze on the sand in front of them. “I never get that choice. You know I don’t have that much freedom.”

“But if you did,” Chanyeol presses, feeling like this is very important, somehow. “If you were the hero and I was the guide.”

“Then I’d already be dead,” Kyungsoo mutters, and it’s a joke, but it’s kind of a morbid one in the current situation. Then, more quietly, “Of course I would, Chanyeol.”

A smile tugs at Chanyeol’s lips, and he hip-checks Kyungsoo gently. “I know.”

Kyungsoo looks up at him then, and Chanyeol can’t see his mouth, but his eyes are smiling, and Chanyeol’s heart thuds. 

And then, of course, another Level 5 SCAB comes scuttling out of a huge crater, and Chanyeol heaves the flamethrower up with a bitten-off curse, squeezing the trigger harder than necessary as fire blasts out of the nozzle. 

The battle is a little bloodier than most, and it takes Chanyeol a few moments to recover afterwards, gritting his teeth against shouts of pain as he waits for his _injured_ timer to tick down to zero. This last bot had punched a pointed leg straight through the armour covering his stomach, and although the wound is healing without a problem, his vision swims with pain in the meantime, and he doesn’t dare look down at the blood he feels dripping down his hip. 

“You’re okay,” Kyungsoo murmurs beside him, warm hands rubbing at the back of his neck, patting awkwardly at his armoured shoulders. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”

Chanyeol makes a sound that’s suspiciously like a whimper, then reaches for Kyungsoo’s hand, intending to—hold it, or something, he doesn’t really know. Before he can, though, Kyungsoo jerks away and stands up. 

“Come on, let’s get moving. If you just sit here, they’ll come to _you._ ” 

“Soo,” Chanyeol says pitifully. “It really hurts. You don’t understand.”

Kyungsoo glares at him sharply, and Chanyeol snaps his mouth shut. “You don’t have to remind _me_ , Chanyeol,” he grits. “Get up.”

Chanyeol closes his eyes and breathes for a moment, then drags himself to his feet, hating everything. 

They don’t talk for a while after that. Chanyeol finds some _venena_ in a crater after killing a few SCABs that live inside it, and he collects it eagerly, figuring he’ll give it to Baekhyun and Jongdae to sell if they say he won’t be able to find a buyer in the next place he’s going. He finds another two portions as he continues his search and bags those too, along with a 50% HP booster and a spare blaster gun—it’s an old model, but he can never have too many weapons. He finds a ragged utility belt on one of the bodies, and it makes him gleeful, because it means he can equip more than two weapons at a time; he clips his sword to it along with his most powerful blaster gun and that old electric baton he got from the scout in the mountains. The flamethrower he keeps in his hands. 

He feels pretty badass after that, so he poses proudly for Kyungsoo, flamethrower cocked against his shoulder, and it earns him a snort of laughter. So he thinks maybe they’re okay. 

 

When Chanyeol spots the dark smudge of a body in the distance, situated directly in the middle of three craters that are likely to have a bot in each of them, he figures he’s in the right place, and that he won’t be finding the antidote anywhere else. Sighing, he gets out a 50% HP booster to get him up to 89%, then makes sure his weapons are in easy reach, adjusts his grip on the flamethrower, says a quick prayer, and plunges in without giving it another thought. 

He’s pleasantly surprised when only one of the SCABs is a Level 5, with the others being a Level 4 and a Level 3, respectively. At different levels, they’re all moving at different speeds, which is actually beneficial, because it means they aren’t all attacking Chanyeol at once. He douses them all in flames for as long as he can, dodging out of the way of their charging attacks and lightning-quick strikes, and when they’re all too close for that, he tosses the flamethrower out of the way and unclips his sword into one hand and the electric baton into the other. 

It’s the first time he’s actually used the latter, and it feels alien in his grip. His sword is a little too heavy in his other, but even so, they make a deadly team. He uses the baton like a shield, blocking swipes with it and momentarily paralyzing his foes in the process, only to bring down his sword on them a second later. The Level 3 SCAB goes down fairly quickly, which makes things considerably less hectic, but no less frightening. 

Chanyeol gets paralyzed himself more than once, and he sustains a number of pretty serious injuries that he really doesn’t have the time to pay attention to at the moment. He grits his teeth through it, dodges and lunges, blinks sweat out of his eyes, hisses as he feels Wasteland dust grinding into his wounds. The Level 4 bot gets him down and starts dragging him towards its crater, and Chanyeol kicks out frantically, slams his elbow into the ground painfully to give himself the leverage needed to swing his other arm around to hit it with his sword. He’s lucky; the last of its HP drains and it collapses into pixels. 

That just leaves the Level 5 arachnid monstrosity, and it rears above him, shrieking. Chanyeol rolls backwards in a move that would be cool if it wasn’t so desperate and clumsy. He plunges his sword into its underbelly, but all that does is earn him a stabbing pain in his side where the bot’s leg tears through his armour like it’s cardboard. Scrambling, Chanyeol gets out from under it, coughing and tasting blood in his mouth. He picks up the flamethrower where he’d dropped it earlier, abandoning both sword and baton in a frantic trade-off, and turns its nozzle on his last foe. The heat of the fire scorches his open wounds, and he thinks he screams a little, but it’s lost in the screech of the bot getting roasted on the other end. It takes several long moments, but finally, it falls and explodes. 

Chanyeol whoops hoarsely and lies down, groaning as he pokes at his wounds and biting down a scream as he instantly regrets it. They close up slowly, and he looks at his HP—26%. _Not bad, hero,_ he tells himself, and it’s in Kyungsoo’s voice. 

“—proud of you,” the real Kyungsoo is saying, pushing Chanyeol into sitting upright and patting his shoulders. “That was some good strategy and quick decision-making you did. You’re really learning, you know?”

Chanyeol slumps against him for a few moments, smiling helplessly as his heart rate slows, and hooks his arm around his guide’s waist to pull him close when he thinks Kyungsoo might move away. They stay there for a full minute at least, awkwardly propped against each other, and Chanyeol’s _injured_ timer disappears as his wounds heal over. Then, groaning, he hauls himself upright, collects his dropped weapons, and approaches the body at the center of it. 

It obviously hasn’t been touched in years; its armour is still on, and it lies facedown in the sand with a big hole blasted into its back. The bits of black cloth give it away as a member of the current ruling party—the ultimate winners of the war, though this guy obviously hadn’t been so lucky. Chanyeol looks it over methodically, plucking out anything he finds and trying not to let the morbidity get to him. 

“HP boost, 20%,” he catalogues as he finds it and drinks it on the spot. “New battery pack. Oh, he has his ID on him. That might come in handy. Registered pilot, eh? Not sure how you ended up dying on the ground, then.” He tucks the ID card into his pack, then finds a vial of silvery ointment in the man’s pocket and whoops again. “Antidote. Got it. Let’s go, Soo, we have a poisoned man to save.”

Finding Baekhyun and Jongdae’s tent again isn’t quite as easy as Chanyeol had been hoping it would be, but he makes it back before 6:00, and he counts that as a victory. Evening never seems to be a fun time for him. 

“You got it,” Baekhyun says breathlessly as soon as they step through the tent flap. “Oh thank _god._ You did get it, didn’t you? You didn’t give up and come back to break the news to me?” He’s crouching on the floor next to Jongdae, who would look like he’s sleeping except that he’s trembling and moaning quietly. His forearm is almost completely black now, and dark veins stretch past the fabric of his shirt at the shoulder. His head thrashes, and Baekhyun cradles it carefully in his hands. 

“I got it,” Chanyeol says quickly, and he holds the antidote out as soon as he wrestles it out of his pack. “Here, take it, quickly.”

Breath rushes from Baekhyun’s lungs in a sigh of relief. “Hold him down,” he says, taking the vial and attacking the wax seal with his teeth. 

Chanyeol tugs off his helmet and drops to his knees on the hard ground, shuffling over to hold onto Jongdae’s shoulders awkwardly. Jongdae whines high in his throat when he touches the shoulder of his infected arm, and Chanyeol winces and holds on. Kyungsoo sits down heavily across his legs, meeting Chanyeol’s eyes and smiling reassuringly. 

Baekhyun pours the ointment into the wound liberally, then grimaces as he sticks his fingers right into it, rubbing it in. Jongdae _screams_ , arching up off the ground and trying to tug his arm away; Chanyeol has to move to pin his shoulders down with his knees so that he can get another hand on Jongdae’s arm to keep it still enough for Baekhyun. There’s a momentary struggle, and Baekhyun hisses as he pours the rest of the ointment in and pushes it into the wound. 

“This is going to draw the poison out and clear his veins, but the skin here is still infected,” he says nervously, pointing to the dead, black skin around the wound. “I’ll need to burn it out or amputate it.” He looks up at Chanyeol and says, “Do you have the flamethrower?”

“You can’t use that!” Chanyeol yelps. “You’ll kill him!”

“You got another idea?” Baekhyun asks, grunting as Jongdae tries to wrench himself free. “I would have been burning it off of him this whole time if I’d had something better. It slows down the effects.” 

Chanyeol scrambles mentally, then says, “Matches! I found matches on a couple of the bodies. Would that work?”

Baekhyun nods frantically. “Get it out.”

Chanyeol struggles out of his pack as quickly as he can without letting Jongdae squirm out from under him. “Here,” he says, handing Baekhyun the pack of matches. The other man breaks one off immediately, striking it against the ground, and sets the small flame to Jongdae’s arm. 

The skin around the wound lights up immediately, like the poison is flammable—and judging by the way the Wasteland bots react to fire, it probably is—and Jongdae wails in pain. Flames lick up his arm, and Chanyeol stares in horror until they suddenly go out, leaving behind streaks of blistered skin, but it’s red rather than black. Jongdae settles down with a groan. 

Baekhyun sighs in relief, climbing off his friend and closing his eyes. “Well, that was as completely awful as it always is.”

Chanyeol swallows hard. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Do it outside, please,” Baekhyun says without opening his eyes. 

Chanyeol dry-heaves, but thankfully, he hasn’t eaten anything other than HP boosters in almost two weeks, and nothing comes up. Kyungsoo runs soothing fingers through his hair, and that helps. 

“Thank you,” Baekhyun says quietly, and Chanyeol opens his eyes to see him back by Jongdae’s side, stroking the tender skin of his arm and his tear-stained face as he sleeps. “For saving him.”

Chanyeol nods slowly. “Of course, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun looks up and grins at him. “So, now that that whole ordeal is out of the way. Hi. You seem like a cool dude. I think your name is spelled wrong, though.”

It pulls a laugh out of Chanyeol, who’s still reeling a little. “Yeah, it is. Nice to meet you too.”

Baekhyun laughs as well. “I like you already.”


	15. Chapter 15

Chanyeol and Baekhyun chat for a long time, while Baekhyun wraps up Jongdae’s blistered arm in gauze and Kyungsoo sits nearby, adding in things that Chanyeol forgets as he recaps their journey up to this point. They fall into easy conversation; Baekhyun is as much of a motormouth as Chanyeol is, so that helps. And he’s comfortable and laid-back, unlike the majority of the people Chanyeol’s met here so far. Smiles a lot more, too. 

“You got here in May? I’ve been here just over a year, then. Jongdae popped up about a month later.” Baekhyun’s sitting with his partner’s head in his lap, hands stroking through his dark hair. “We didn’t know each other beforehand, or anything. But we’ve been stuck here together for a long time, and we have all these fake memories of being together, so we’re really close now. I mean, it’s unavoidable. But I think we’d be close in real life too, you know? We fit well together.” The tender way he looks at Jongdae, full of affection and implicit trust and relief, makes Chanyeol’s chest ache, kind of in a good way. It makes him happy that they have each other, at least. 

“This is only the second time someone’s made it up to us,” Baekhyun says a while later, his fingers now rubbing gentle circles into Jongdae’s throat. “And it feels like a long time ago, you know? I’d almost given up on anyone coming through again. It’s always just me and Dae, toiling away out here, trying to get by.”

“What do you do in the meantime?” Chanyeol asks, because he always wonders. “I mean, while a hero’s in the game, but not up to your point yet.” 

Baekhyun shrugs. “We do our jobs. It’s really monotonous, and painfully repetitive, because each time the game resets, we have to go through the same motions again. We hit the same spots, we know where all the bodies are that we need to get stuff from. We go back and forth to the trading posts and sell things. We get stung, heal, recover, head out again. We expect those, too. It’s the same every time.”

Chanyeol winces. “That must drive you crazy.”

“It does, yeah.” Baekhyun shrugs. “But after a while you just...don’t expect anything else. It’s normal. We have each other, and that helps. Sometimes we have meltdowns, but there’s nothing to do but keep going, so we keep going. Kyungsoo understands, I’m sure.”

Chanyeol looks over at his guide, who smiles wryly and nods once. 

“Dae’s a little worse for wear than I am,” Baekhyun admits, playing with his partner’s hair. “It’s just...harder on him than it is on me, I guess. He hates the character he was assigned, and I mean, I can see why. It’s dangerous, it’s painful, it’s scary, it’s unsafe, we’re constantly scared for our lives, even though we technically know we can’t die until you get here. His character, you know, he’s supposed to be all tough and fearless and not scared of a little pain, but that doesn’t mean he _is_. Part of him is like that, the in-character part, but the other part...just wants to go home. He gets stung and he’s poisoned and he’s supposed to say, _Oh, it’s just part of the job,_ but he doesn’t even _want_ this job. So it’s hard. I don’t know, I’ve had it a little easier, for whatever reason. But it’s hard to watch him struggle. You know?”

“I know,” Chanyeol agrees, nodding. 

“But we’re getting by! And it’s exciting to have you here, now that the whole poison fiasco is over,” Baekhyun says, grinning suddenly. “A change in pace! At last!” He shakes Jongdae slightly in his enthusiasm, and the dark-haired man groans and shifts in his sleep, then blinks his eyes open. 

“Baek?” he mutters, squinting. 

“Dae!” Baekhyun positively _beams_ , leaning down to plant a smacking kiss on his forehead. “Welcome back to the land of the living, man. I missed you.”

Jongdae grumbles, then struggles to sit up with Baekhyun’s help. “Hey,” he says groggily to Chanyeol and Kyungsoo. “You’re still here?”

“You’ve only been out for a couple hours,” Chanyeol says with a chuckle. “Baekhyun and I have been chatting.”

And that sets Baekhyun off, who starts retelling everything Chanyeol has just told him, except with slightly more enthusiastic sound effects and hand gestures. Jongdae listens quietly, smiling and chuckling and nodding where appropriate, and he talks to Chanyeol on occasion too, when Chanyeol interrupts to correct some misinformation. Jongdae’s considerably quieter than Baekhyun, though that could be lingering effects of the poison, but he’s friendly and laughs easily, and Chanyeol immediately likes him, too. 

It’s no surprise that when Chanyeol admits he should get moving, Baekhyun promptly declares that he and Jongdae will accompany him. And even though Chanyeol had kind of been expecting it, he still grins, relieved and pleased. 

It takes a shockingly short amount of time for Baekhyun and Jongdae to take down and pack up their tent and all their other things; Jongdae carries the tent, and Baekhyun shoulders the heavier-looking pack that contains all their other belongings. They each tote their weapons as well; Baekhyun with his ludicrously huge blaster, and Jongdae with his flamethrower cocked against his left shoulder, his wrapped right arm hanging limply at his side. 

Kyungsoo and Chanyeol plod along behind them, significantly quieter as they watch Baekhyun and Jongdae bicker and laugh and elbow each other and get into short tussles and then laugh again. Baekhyun shifts his blaster to his right side so he can wrap his left arm around Jongdae’s waist, leaning against him and rubbing his head against Jongdae’s cheek as they stumble along clumsily, and Jongdae chuckles and lets him, eyes fond above his mask.

Chanyeol glances at Kyungsoo and bumps him gently with his hip, and Kyungsoo narrows his eyes at him threateningly. Chanyeol sighs. 

It’s not that he thinks Baekhyun and Jongdae are involved romantically, exactly. They’re affectionate, for sure, and they clearly care about each other a lot, and would do anything for the other, but it’s not like they’re five seconds away from making out, as far as Chanyeol can tell. It’s just that looking at them makes Chanyeol’s chest ache hollowly, and it makes him think about Kyungsoo a lot, because Chanyeol cares about _Kyungsoo_ so much, would do anything for _him._

And maybe, sometimes, Chanyeol looks at Kyungsoo and wants to kiss him, wants to press him into soft sheets and cover him with his body and protect him and kiss him until he forgets about how messed up this world is and how messed up his life is. He’s been trying to suppress it, really. He’d been so busy trying to stay alive and get over his own shock at first that it had been easy, effortless, but now he’s falling into the rhythm and the only thing he ever thinks about other than robots and fighting is Kyungsoo. It’s his little mental oasis, and maybe it’s because Kyungsoo is a safe topic that doesn’t make him yearn for home, and maybe it’s because Kyungsoo is all he’s got out here and he’s a little short on options, but his feelings are building up stronger than he’d planned on letting them get. 

That kissing and protecting feeling is coming up a lot more often than not, now, when Chanyeol looks at Kyungsoo, and that’s probably bad. But he looks at Baekhyun and Jongdae, the way they cuddle up together and laugh, and he feels a spark of jealousy, because he wants that too. But he shouldn’t. Wrong time, wrong place. Chanyeol’s specialty. 

They don’t get very far before nightfall, since they started late anyway, but it feels good to have made a little progress, and even better to have a somewhat-safe place to sleep at night, with filtered air and a little shade. Chanyeol feels oddly content as he helps the others set up their tent and roll out their bed mats, and even more content when we realizes there are only two, and he and Kyungsoo will be sharing one. It feels bizarrely domestic, despite the fact that they’re in the middle of a hostile former warzone and they literally just destroyed a group of murderous robots ten minutes ago (and hadn’t that been nice, having very capable help again). 

It’s dark inside the tent at night, but Jongdae turns on a little lamp that casts a yellow glow on everything and they all sit around on the floor and chat, and Baekhyun and Jongdae roughhouse a little, which Chanyeol promptly joins in on, and eventually drags Kyungsoo into as well. Chanyeol’s only known the war raiders for a single day, and Kyungsoo barely more than that, but they all joke about Chanyeol’s misspelled name and Baekhyun’s enormous blaster (“ _You know what they say about boys with big guns.” “Yeah, they’re compensating.”_ ) and that latter comment earns Kyungsoo a tackle to the ground, and he’s _laughing._

Chanyeol’s heard Kyungsoo laugh before, usually at his expense, but never so loudly and freely, never until there are tears on his cheeks from laughing so hard, and maybe it’s because Baekhyun is squeezing his sides with threats to, “ _Say that again, I dare you!_ ” but either way, it makes Chanyeol’s heart clench. When Kyungsoo finally pleads forgiveness, he hauls himself upright, still grinning, and leans against Chanyeol’s shoulder with a sigh that sounds happier than Chanyeol thinks he’s ever heard him. 

Kyungsoo looks up at him and grins, and Chanyeol falls a little harder, has to use a lot of willpower not to lean down and kiss him, and he already knows he’s going to miss Baekhyun and Jongdae when they have to part ways. 

He gets to hear Baekhyun and Jongdae’s in-game backstories the next day, after a night of very pleasant near-snuggling that was interrupted once by a spontaneous attack on the tent by three bots, which was dealt with quickly with their combined efforts. Chanyeol tries to focus on the nice, snuggly parts. 

“We’re apolitical,” Jongdae tells them as they walk along on the second day, peeking underneath the bandages on his right arm to check on the healing progress of his burns. “We honestly don’t have a side. We’re mainly just, you know, anti-war, which is kind of ironic considering the aftermath of war is now the way we make our living.”

“It wouldn’t have to be if there hadn’t been a war in the first place,” Baekhyun adds in, leaning into him to check on the blistered skin himself. “We lived out that way before, but our whole town got destroyed when this became a warzone.” He gestures vaguely towards the south-west. “So we did what we had to do in order to survive. Not everyone was so lucky.”

Jongdae nods in agreement, slapping at his partner’s hands when they stray too close to his puncture wound. “At first we just needed to survive, short-term, so we lived off the leftovers of the war—abandoned army posts, any supplies we could find out here. And then this just...became our livelihood.”

“Which is great!” Baekhyun cuts in, exaggeratedly enthusiastic. “Two young bachelors, living off the land, fighting against the odds to clean up this dump and kill any robots we come across.” He swings his blaster around heroically. 

Jongdae looks at him with a look that’s part fond and part pained. “Yeah, it’s really wonderful.”

Baekhyun hooks a free arm around his neck and pulls him down into a half headlock. “Fake it till you make it, Dae.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Chanyeol interjects, hoping to distract Jongdae from what is clearly a sore topic, “is that why they let you stay here? To clean up the land?”

Baekhyun straightens and lets Jongdae go, shrugging. “Partly, yeah. I mean, it’s the government that’s benefitting from us living out here, collecting all the crap they left behind and selling it back to them for frankly less than it’s worth, and they say we’re helping them reduce the murderous robot population, too. I don’t think they really care about that, though, because the bots keep the people in line and stuff. I feel like they could deal with that very efficiently if they wanted to.”

“But instead we’re stuck fighting them off to survive,” Jongdae says, rolling his eyes. 

“Happy thoughts!” Baekhyun commands, pointing at Jongdae accusingly. “Don’t make me enforce Happy Thought Hour again. I know you hate that.”

“I hate it because you cry on me,” Jongdae mutters. “And it’s not like you haven’t been saying any negative things yourself, Mr. Byun.”

“I just get really emotional about how important you are to me,” Baekhyun says, not a trace of shame or humour in his voice. “Fine, it’s Happy Thought Hour starting now. You’ve brought this upon yourself.”

“These always go the same, every time,” Jongdae says with a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. I’m happy that I didn’t die from the sting.”

“That’s right!” Baekhyun says happily. “That’s awesome. You didn’t die, and I am so glad. What would I do without you? I’d be all alone.” He blinks suddenly. “And that would be really hard. I already had to live out here alone for a month before you came. You saved me from going crazy.”

“You’re doing it already!” Jongdae whines. “Can’t you find a way to be grateful for my existence that doesn’t include crying?”

Baekhyun blinks rapidly and throws his arm around his partner again, pressing their cheeks together, awkward due to their bulky masks. “I just love you so much!” he declares, and Jongdae growls at him, then laughs. 

Chanyeol glances at Kyungsoo. “I have no idea what’s going on right now,” he admits. 

Kyungsoo snorts, shaking his head. “Me neither,” he says, but he looks amused. “Happy Thought Hour doesn’t seem very happy.”

“At least they’re smiling,” Chanyeol says, nodding towards their companions as they bicker and laugh. “People out here don’t do that a lot.” 

“It gets harder the longer you’re here, and the longer you’re alone,” Kyungsoo says, shrugging. “But yeah, you’re right. The smiling is a nice change.”

 

It takes them two and a half days total to reach the end of the Wastelands. It passes by quickly, somehow, in between frequent SCAB attacks and snake bites and sand or fume clouds. They work together to dispose of the adversaries and suffer through the rest in solidarity. They meet another pair of Vultures on the second day, and although Baekhyun and Jongdae are wary of them, they trade Chanyeol HP boosters and an HP upgrade for three of his five collected portions of _venena_. Chanyeol thinks that’s probably a bad deal, but he figures he could use this stuff right now. 

It’s a joy, honestly, travelling with the pair of them. They’re amusing, they play around a lot, they make everything seem a little less horrible with their constant banter and laughter. Chanyeol loves Kyungsoo (really, he loves him to death), but Baekhyun and Jongdae are great company for passing the time, and they even manage to pull jokes out of Kyungsoo. They’re good for both of them, really. They boost morale. Half the time, Baekhyun’s just doing it for Jongdae’s sake, trying to get his partner to smile, but it tends to help them all, even Baekhyun himself. Chanyeol doesn’t want to leave them behind.

As it is, Baekhyun and Jongdae don’t take him all the way to the edge of the Wastelands, parting ways after their fourth night crashing in the tent. “The city, Ancora, is out that way,” Baekhyun tells him, gesturing towards the obvious silhouette in the distance. “Dae and I don’t exactly have a great reputation in there, so we’re not going to risk our necks trying to do our buying and selling there. We’re heading for another trading post in that direction.” He points westwards.

“It’s been a pleasure,” Chanyeol says earnestly. “Really, thank you so much for taking us this far.”

Baekhyun’s eyes curve up above his mask, and Chanyeol imagines he’s grinning. “You more than earned it,” he says. “You saved Dae’s life.”

“And you spiced up our horribly boring lives a little,” Jongdae adds. 

“And, you know. You’re trying to break us out of this hellhole. So, really, it’s all mutually beneficial.” Baekhyun shrugs. 

“I’m going to miss you,” Chanyeol tells them, and he means it. 

“We’re going to miss you too, man,” Jongdae says, clapping him on the shoulder. “Kick ass, yeah?” 

“I’ll try,” Chanyeol says ruefully. 

“And when we get out of here, look us up,” Baekhyun adds—maybe a little optimistically, but Chanyeol thinks they could use more of that. “I think we could be bros in real life.”

“Absolutely,” Chanyeol agrees, warmed by their sincerity. 

They all waffle for a bit, and Kyungsoo says his own thanks and goodbyes, and then Jongdae says, “Here, take this.” He holds out his trusty flamethrower; it’s barely left his hands since Chanyeol returned it. 

“What? Dude, don’t you...need this?” Chanyeol’s hands go out and take it anyway—he’s been in this game for two weeks, he knows a script-enforced move when he sees it. 

“We can get ourselves a new one,” Jongdae assures him. “And you’ll need it more. There are some nasty bots along this edge of the Wastelands. The flamethrower will come in handy.”

Chanyeol swallows hard. “Okay, thanks. Really. Thank you.”

“Our pleasure,” Jongdae says seriously, then glances at Baekhyun. 

Taking the cue, Baekhyun spreads his arms as best as he can while holding his huge blaster. “Well, this is goodbye then, boys. See you on the other side?” 

“I sure as hell hope so,” Chanyeol says with a nod. Then, with a deep breath, he places a hand gently on Kyungsoo’s lower back and turns them both around, towards the cityscape in the distance, and starts walking. 

“Don’t die!” Baekhyun calls after them. “Listen to Kyungsoo! Be there for each other!”

Chanyeol smiles to himself. “Always!” he hollers back without turning around, knowing that he’ll never leave if he does. 

“Thanks for saving me!” Jongdae adds. 

“Anytime!” Chanyeol laughs. 

“We believe in you!”

And that really makes a difference, Chanyeol thinks, because even if he doesn’t really believe in himself, these people genuinely think he stands a chance at beating this game, when no one else has. He has to try, for their sake. Everyone is counting on him. 

 

It’s kind of weird to be alone with Kyungsoo again after several days of being in a group. It’s so much quieter, and with the sudden spike in romantic feelings in Chanyeol’s life concerning his guide, he’s not entirely sure how to act or what to say. It’s not like they didn’t talk one-on-one when Baekhyun and Jongdae were around, but suddenly doing so feels much more intimate, perhaps because it’s so much easier now to hear his own pounding heartbeat. 

It’s a little uneasy at first, with only a couple pitiful attempts at conversation in between minor SCAB battles (and although they’re just as frequent, they’re less vicious now that Chanyeol is alone). When the silence stretches on, Chanyeol starts babbling mindlessly, suddenly scared Kyungsoo can see right through him, can _tell_ that Chanyeol has developed a very ill-timed crush. “On a scale of one to ten, how much am I already getting on your nerves?” he asks. “You must be so tired of spending time with me. Do you remember, the first words you ever said to me was that I’m annoying. Super unsurprising.”

“You’re not annoying, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo cuts in, turning to look up at him with intense eyes. He can’t see Chanyeol’s face through his tinted visor, but it still feels like he’s staring him straight in the eyes. “Well, maybe sometimes, a little, but you know I’d be going crazy without you around.”

“But I’m sure there were other heroes that were less of a nuisance,” Chanyeol argues, not exactly sure _why_ he’s reminding Kyungsoo of his faults. It seems counterproductive—not that Chanyeol is trying to work towards anything, really. 

“The _other_ heroes are dead, and didn’t constantly remind me of my past failures,” Kyungsoo says harshly. 

Chanyeol snaps his mouth shut. “Oh god I’m sorry. I’m just— And Kyungsoo you _know_ those weren’t your fault, they— If I die, it won’t have been your fault. You’re the only reason I’m _alive_ , but if I die, it’s because _I_ wasn’t good enough, and the game is too hard, and I couldn’t— Goddammit, Soo.”

Kyungsoo shakes his head stiffly. “Drop it, Chanyeol.”

“I’m really…I’m sorry, Kyungsoo. I know I shouldn’t bring it up. I’m just...dumb.” Chanyeol hangs his head. 

“A little,” Kyungsoo says, and pats his arm, voice softer. “But if it makes you feel better, you’re kind of a favourite so far.”

Chanyeol perks up. “ _A_ favourite or _the_ favourite? There’s a difference.”

Kyungsoo chuckles, knocking their shoulders together. “How about you sing for me? You tend to say less stupid shit when your mouth is otherwise occupied.”

The helmet is suddenly a blessing, because Kyungsoo can’t see his blush, and Chanyeol is currently thinking about _other_ ways in which his mouth could be occupied. He clears his throat and sings whatever comes to mind. For once, having an uncanny knack for memorizing song lyrics is coming in handy. 

Two and a half songs later, Chanyeol gets charged by a duo of unhappy SCABs, and when that’s over and dealt with and Chanyeol’s heart is no longer threatening to punch through his chest, he says, “Oh, fuck, there’s going to be a boss battle, isn’t there?”

Kyungsoo glances up at him, but his face is flat in that _I can’t tell you anything even though I want to so don’t even ask_ way. 

“We’re almost to the end of the Wastelands. And Jongdae gave me his flamethrower. Shit, yeah, there’s a boss battle coming up. Oh god, I am so not ready for that.” 

“You’re never ready,” Kyungsoo mutters, probably to himself, but that’s as much confirmation as Chanyeol needs. 

He spends the next hours tense, nervous, and hopelessly trying to psych himself up for the looming encounter. His combat is up to 100 following all the fighting he did with Baekhyun and Jongdae’s help, and his defense is at 80, but he has no idea if that’s good, if it’s _enough_. He’s pleased that he’s reached triple digits with at least one of his stats, but he’s still scared. Of course he’s scared. This is never going to be any less fucking terrifying, throwing himself into battles where he could very well die, leaving Kyungsoo to beat himself up over another loss, leaving the rest of the characters—Yifan, Yixing, Joonmyun, Baekhyun, Jongdae, and anyone else who might be out there—to wait for another hero, another chance to get out, going slowly insane in the meantime. 

Not that Chanyeol is _that_ selfless, that he’s only thinking about what his death will mean for the people around him. No, he’s plenty terrified of dying in and of itself. Even if he were alone in this game and no one else was real and his death would just be bad for him, he’d be scared. Dying is not something he wanted to think about this seriously at the tender age of twenty-three. Thinking about it now makes him kind of tight-chested and shaky. 

He doesn’t have the time or luxury to have a panic attack right now. He takes several deep breaths, tightens his grip on Jongdae’s flamethrower. He talks to Kyungsoo when his throat is less constricted. He makes a few bad jokes. He tries not to scream every time something pops out of increasingly numerous craters in the land. He tries not to hyperventilate when a dense dust cloud floats past and obscures his vision for more than a few moments. He tries to keep his wits about him. 

He finds the first body he’s seen in a while next to a crater he’s just eradicated of its robotic occupants, and he has a bad feeling about this one. They’re still a good distance from Ancora—Chanyeol has the feeling they’ll only make it there in another five or six hours—but the SCAB attacks have been increasingly frequent, and Kyungsoo has been growing more tense with every passing moment. The body yields a 50% HP boost and a fresh gas tank for his flamethrower, which is pretty damn telling if you ask Chanyeol. They’re preparing him for a fight. 

Chanyeol isn’t ready, but he drains the boost and slaps on the new tank and marches onwards anyway, counting his breaths and trying not to let his anxiety show.

 

It’s spiders, of course. Chanyeol hadn’t given it all that much thought, but he’s less than shocked when a gigantic Mother of All Robotic Arachnids clambers out of a crater that is definitely too small to hide it and comes charging towards him. It looks mostly like the Level 5 SCABs, but its body is bigger, its legs longer, and its jaws are about four times the size, opening wide enough to fit Chanyeol’s head, helmet and all. Chanyeol thinks he swears, but he can’t hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears. There’s a couple smaller spider bots at the Queen’s feet (do spiders have queens?), and they clamber for Chanyeol immediately, hissing and spitting like cats. 

Chanyeol douses them with flame on instinct, and blessedly, they’re small enough that that kills them fairly quickly. Chanyeol thanks Jongdae silently for his weapon, watching the little bots collapse into pixels, and then he faces the boss and takes a deep breath. 

Robots, Chanyeol has learned, each have a fighting pattern. That’s probably a game-dictated thing—he’s not sure how intuitively game characters _can_ fight—but Chanyeol sees it as it’s own little mission in every battle. If he can figure out the pattern, he can figure out when to strike, when to step back, when to block. He can figure out how to inflict the most damage while sustaining the least amount of injury, and thus beat out the opponent in terms of HP loss. If he can do that, then he can win. He just has to figure out the puzzle first. He just needs to keep his head on long enough to _do_ that.

It's even harder than it sounds. The huge Monster Spider comes racing towards him, and it's fast, and Chanyeol's chest seizes up with terror because there are sharp teeth lining its jaws, and he has the feeling those won't just make him bleed. Chanyeol's not particularly scared of spiders in general, but he likes them about as much as the next person, and he learns that they are exponentially scarier in relation to how large they are. For example, he kind of wants to die just looking at this one.

He squeezes the trigger of the flamethrower without really thinking about it, and the flames glide right over the robot's smooth metal exterior, doing nothing to the HP bar above its head. Chanyeol almost screams, thinking his most promising weapon has turned out to be useless against this thing, until the bot stops, lashes out with a sharp, spindly leg, and opens its mouth to roar at him. The flames lick into its jaws, and then the robot _screams_ , HP dropping by a full 5%, and Chanyeol realizes its deadliest weapon is also its weak spot. How poetic.

The rhythm to the Wasteland boss's movements is harder to parse than the usual robot's. It moves so quickly that Chanyeol has trouble keeping track of it, when its mouth is open, when it's in defense mode versus attack mode. It brings its sharp legs crashing down at Chanyeol from above, rather than swiping at him only, and that adds a new twist, because he has to guess which direction the next blow is going to come from. It's big enough that whether it uses its right leg or left makes a difference, and Chanyeol has to try to keep track of that, too, because it switches back and forth on each blow. Sometimes it swings high enough that Chanyeol can duck under its leg, but of course he has to be sure the attack isn't coming from above for him to try that particular maneuver. 

On more than one occasion, he misjudges or missteps, and he gets knocked onto his back with a slash across his chest or upper arm, and he has to roll out of the way of a following stab from above. But if he moves quickly enough, he can catch the subsequent scream with a spout of fire from his weapon, and he gets a hit in. The spider draws back, screeching, and Chanyeol has time to scramble to his feet and await another attack. Both of them lose HP, but the spider loses more.

The spider moves too fast, and Chanyeol has an idea that he doesn't think will work, but is desperate enough to try anyway. The flamethrower is a two-handed weapon, one on the trigger and the other on the forestock, but he's seen Jongdae swing it up to rest on his shoulder while he's not using it to rest his burnt arm. Chanyeol does the same, jumping back to evade a swipe and scrabbling at his hip with his free hand for his electric baton. He says a prayer of thanks that it unclips smoothly, and he turns it on and swings it on the next beat, when he knows the spider will be lunging forward.

He's not mistaken, and the spider freezes with the shock, mouth open on the anticipated screech. Chanyeol flicks his baton off, jams it under his armpit, and swings his flamethrower down to aim it and squeeze the trigger in one movement. He fumbles slightly, his aim is off in his haste, but somehow, magically, it works. He gets a longer blast in, with the spider momentarily paralyzed, and its HP drops more rapidly than it had before. Chanyeol feels almost giddy with this small success.

The trick works a total of four times before Chanyeol botches the transition between baton back to flamethrower and drops the former instead of tucking it up under his arm. He doesn't have time to bend down and pick it up, not when he has to dodge away a second later or risk losing a limb. He never ends up having time to collect his weapon, dancing around it a few times but never getting the chance to do anything but kick it out of the way again. Even so, those four times take out close to a third of the spider's HP on their own, and that's more than enough to have made the venture worth it.

The remainder of its HP drops slowly but steadily, and so does Chanyeol's, albeit slightly more slowly. He's frustrated with the seemingly endless barrage of attacks, the searing pain of cuts that slice through his armour and the impending sluggishness of low HP and the screaming fear of not making it through this one.

The spider's HP is at something like 10% and Chanyeol figures he's got this one in the bag when the tip of a flailing leg catches the lip of his helmet and yanks it clear off his head.

Chanyeol freezes, getting a full blast of dry, noxious air in his face, and evades an attack purely through luck. _Don't breathe,_ he tells himself harshly, but suddenly his lungs feel like they're screaming for air. _Move but don't breathe for as long as possible. How long did Joonmyun say I had without a mask before it starts draining HP? Five seconds?_

It feels like ten have already passed by the time Chanyeol gets himself to move again, biting down hard on his tongue as he swings his gun around to catch the tail end of a shriek, taking a tiny fraction off its HP. Chanyeol's chest burns with the need for oxygen, and he tries to breathe out instead of in, blinking away gritty dust that sneaks past his eyelashes. He doesn't even have time to look for his helmet; he's dodging, ducking, waiting, shooting. Another 4% of its HP goes, and Chanyeol has to draw a deep breath.

It burns all the way down his throat, and even more when it sinks into his lungs, and Chanyeol coughs as he backs up a few dizzying steps, knowing somewhere in the back of his mind that he has to. His eyes water, and he can feel his HP dropping, even if he can't see it without his helmet on. The midday sun beats down against his face, and Chanyeol hears the scream and shoots again, semi-blind. He dodges on instinct, blinks, sees that the spider's HP is down to 5%, max. Then he's getting hit, he's falling, and everything hurts.

His hands are empty—he lost the flamethrower somewhere in the fall. He's losing everything today. Including this battle, if he doesn't do something quick. There's a sharp leg pinning him to the ground through his armour, and he's being dragged, roughly enough that he can't seem to reach for the weapons at his belt. He sucks in a desperate breath, but it just makes things burn worse. His arms flail; his hand connects with something on the ground. 

It's his baton, still lying around wherever he'd dropped it earlier. His fingers curl around the handle, switch it on instinctively, but he's being pulled by his leg; there's no way he can reach anything worth hitting like this. Praying hard, he stops struggling, lies still. 

The spider seems to crow with victory and stops dragging him, and Chanyeol thinks he's done something right until there's a shadow rearing over him and suddenly, a sharp, stabbing pain in his abdomen, just above his hip, and that's not a leg, that's a _head._

Chanyeol brings the baton down on the spider's thick, metal skull, three times in quick succession while it's paralyzed, and strong jaws lock around Chanyeol's stomach before the whole thing crumples in on itself, like a popcan getting crushed. Chanyeol screams. He’s won, but it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it.

"Helmet, now," he hears, and it's hazy and faraway, but Chanyeol recognizes it as Kyungsoo. He's telling him...something about his helmet. He needs to do something. He needs to put it on. 

"I can't," he rasps, his voice barely there. 

"Chanyeol, helmet, _now._ You are going to suffocate in less than a minute if you don't."

He doesn't even doubt that. There's no room for relief, no room for a sense of victory, when his lungs are on fire and his abdomen is a zenith of pain and he needs clean air, he needs it right now before he dies and makes this whole fight worthless. 

He's not sure how he ends up on his hands and knees, but he gets there, and somehow he manages not to pass out as he starts to move across the sand, blinking against the darkness that begs to draw him in. His helmet is a hazy lump ten feet away, and he has to tell himself _Just one more step_ seven times before he reaches it, fumbles over its slick exterior before jamming it onto his head, twisted to the side but sealed around his neck. 

The first breath is not like a cool drink down his throat, or anything soothing like that. It burns all the way down, and his lungs protest angrily. But the second is a little easier, and the third even easier than that, and soon he's panting, trying to get clean oxygen back into his bloodstream.

Even with that on the mend, though, Chanyeol isn't doing so hot. He feels battered and bruised, his head is swimming, and it still feels like someone has stabbed him in the stomach with a hot poker and is twisting it around in there. The fogginess is partially due to low HP, he knows, and he struggles out of his backpack to get out a boost, whichever one he gets his hands on first. He gulps it down, and that burns his throat, too, but it brings him out of the haze.

Kyungsoo is crouching in front of him, hands fluttering over his body, talking, but Chanyeol can't even hear him. He groans, twisting his helmet so that it's on straight, and glances over his visor. His HP is at 58% now, meaning he'd been at 8% before the boost, and his _injured_ timer is still counting down from 40 seconds. It ticks down four seconds, then kicks back up to 38 at the same time as a burning wave of pain emanates from his abdomen.

Above the _injured_ timer is a new bar, labelled in bold red with the word **_poisoned_**. "Oh, fuck," he groans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out this amazing art my friend Bee made back when I first wrote this fic!!! [LINK](https://twitter.com/unnie_bee/status/719240753839366145)


	16. Chapter 16

"Chanyeol, _talk to me._ ” Kyungsoo's voice filters through at last, sounding nearly hysteric.

"It bit me," Chanyeol says faintly, watching his HP lower 1%, his _injured_ timer struggle to count down, his _poisoned_ bar grow with each fresh wave of pain. "It bit me, Soo."

"I know, Chanyeol," Kyungsoo says, helping him to sit up. "Which is why we have to deal with this problem, or else you will not live to see the city."

"What do I—" Chanyeol grits his teeth against a stab of pain. "What do I do? We don't have any antidote. And I don't think we can tie a tourniquet there."

Kyungsoo looks like he's panicking just as much as Chanyeol is, if not more. "No, no tourniquet.”

“It’s going to spread fast,” Chanyeol says, risking a glance down for the first time. His other wounds are all closing up, but just above his right hip is a pair of puncture wounds, and when he pries off the plate of armour covering them, he can see that they’re already black and festering, like Jongdae’s had been, ringed with dark veins. “Oh, _fuck._ There’s no way I’ll get to the city in time to fix this.”

“Not if you don’t stop it from spreading,” Kyungsoo agrees, and that really doesn’t help. 

Chanyeol tries to get to his feet, but all he manages to do is fall back on his ass with a choked-off scream of pain. His limbs feel stiff, almost locked into place, and the pain is overwhelming when he moves. His visions swims again. 

“Chanyeol, focus. We need to stop it from spreading. We need to slow down the effects so you can keep moving.”

“Yeah, fuck, I _know,_ ” Chanyeol grits, staring down at the wound, hands hovering over it. 

“ _Think._ How can you do that?”

Chanyeol’s brain really is not working at full capacity right now, and he wants to snap at Kyungsoo, but he doesn’t even have the energy to do so. His HP is already down to 50%. At this rate he’ll be dead in a couple of minutes. 

_Game mindset,_ he tells himself fiercely, closing his eyes. _You must already have what you need, or the necessary knowledge to get it. Think, think. Slowing down the effects. Baekhyun used the tourniquet. He used the antidote to draw out the poison. He—_

“Fire,” Chanyeol says, gasping on the word. “I need to burn it out.”

“Yes,” Kyungsoo says immediately. “Right now.”

“Oh my god.” Chanyeol groans, picking up his pack again and digging around inside it. He still has four matches left from the pack he’d found on that body, now several days ago. He’d almost just let Baekhyun keep the rest. 

His hands are shaking as he breaks one of the sticks off, and it takes him three tries to light it. He doesn’t think about how much this is going to hurt. Everything already hurts.

Burning out the poison, it turns out, hurts _more._ Unbelievably more. Chanyeol thinks the bite burns, but the fire _scorches._ The smell is enough to make him retch, but all he does is cough up flecks of black liquid as he curls over the sand, clutching at his helmet, slamming one fist against the ground in a desperate attempt to distract himself from the excruciating pain in his stomach. 

“You’re okay,” Kyungsoo says soothingly, one hand rubbing at his lower back. “It’ll get better, you’re okay, come on Yeollie, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

“I am not fucking okay,” Chanyeol grinds out, but the fact that he can speak is a testament to how much the pain is abating, slowly but surely. It turns into something more deadened and throbbing, and slowly, he rolls onto his side, panting. Kyungsoo lets his head sit in his lap, and Chanyeol really wishes he could lose the helmet so Kyungsoo could run his fingers through his hair and wipe the tears off his face. He realizes he’s been crying. He’s not surprised. 

Kyungsoo lets out a long, slow sigh of relief. He’s trembling underneath Chanyeol, absolutely shaking like a leaf, but his voice is deceptively steady when he says, “We need to get moving the second you feel like you can stand up. The poison’s not gone for good; we need to get you an antidote.”

Chanyeol just groans. “Why can’t it be bedtime?”

“Because you’re still in the process of dying, and Ancora’s still a couple hours away. Let’s go.”

Despite Kyungsoo’s firm words, he’s gentle as he helps Chanyeol stand up and start moving. With the surface-level poison burned out, Chanyeol finds he can move with only minimal stiffness, although he continues to lean heavily on Kyungsoo for support. Every few minutes, his wound will flare with pain, and his _poisoned_ bar will grow a fraction longer. 

“If another robot attacks me, I will literally just die,” Chanyeol says, feeling exhausted beyond belief as they head in the direction of the city, having picked up all of Chanyeol’s dropped items. 

“You’re actually safe,” Kyungsoo says. “On the SCAB attack front, at least. Between here and there is clear land.”

“So you _do_ have good news sometimes.” Chanyeol manages to crack half a smile, even though Kyungsoo can’t see it. The ground _is_ starting to look a little greener here and there, and the craters are increasingly infrequent as they move. 

“Sometimes,” Kyungsoo agrees.

They make their way slowly through the remainder of the Wastelands, Chanyeol hissing through his teeth as he fights to keep walking through the spreading burn of his bite. It isn’t too hard at first, but as his _poisoned_ bar grows, the pain increases, and his limbs stiffen, and it gets harder to think straight. He stumbles more than once, and each time Kyungsoo hauls him back to his feet, pushes him forwards, tells him that they just need to go a little bit farther. 

“You’re doing a really good job,” Kyungsoo tells him earnestly, one hand looped around his waist as he half-drags him along. “You’re doing well, we’re getting closer, just push through it.”

“You sound like a midwife,” Chanyeol laughs weakly, gritting his teeth and trying not to whimper. “Are you going to lead me through breathing exercises next?”

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Kyungsoo says. “You should begin with a deep, focusing breath before the contractions start.”

Chanyeol gives a sharp laugh and jostles him gently with his elbow. They make it a few more steps, and then Chanyeol has to pause briefly as the pain spikes. When it’s passed, he says, “Do you think I’m going to make it, Soo?”

Kyungsoo’s arm tightens around his middle and his voice is sharp when he says, “I _know_ you’re going to make it. Let’s just keep walking.”

Chanyeol knows that if Kyungsoo really knew that, he wouldn’t be allowed to say it, but he tips his head against his guide’s and keeps moving anyway. At least, he thinks, if he’s going to die, it may as well be in Kyungsoo’s arms. 

Kyungsoo does his best to keep Chanyeol’s spirits up, saying encouraging things and making soft jokes here and there, and Chanyeol would be falling for him harder if he could think about anything other than his soothing voice and the burning spread of poison through his veins. 

Eventually, Chanyeol has to take another HP boost to combat its constant, slow decrease, and shortly after he knows he has to burn out the poison again. When he looks down at his puncture wounds, they’re stained with tacky black blood, and the veins around it are darker and more prominent against his skin, and dread builds in his stomach because this time he knows how bad it’ll be. He gets his matches out, but he can’t strike one, not when he’s shaking this bad, sweat running down his neck, a mixture of pain and anxiety. 

“Come on, Yeollie, you can do it, it’s just a few minutes and then it’s over, like ripping off a bandaid,” Kyungsoo says, kneeling on the ground beside him. 

Chanyeol huffs out a laugh, trying four times to break off a match before he succeeds. He thinks that’s the second time Kyungsoo’s called him that, but he knows better than to mention it. He wishes he had the time and presence of mind to appreciate it. “This is a little worse than a bandaid,” he says instead, swallowing hard. 

“Even when it’s a really sticky bandaid on the hairy part of your leg?” Kyungsoo asks. 

Chanyeol snorts, then strikes the match quickly and sets it against his skin. 

It hurts just as much as the first time, and Chanyeol just lies there on the ground for a few minutes, eyes closed, while Kyungsoo rubs soothingly at the small patches of space between his pieces of armour, behind his neck and the inside of his elbow. He talks quietly, and Chanyeol doesn’t even know what he’s saying, but it helps anyway. 

Then they get up again and continue walking towards Ancora at a snail’s pace, taking it one step at a time. 

 

It takes them four hours, two HP boosts, and one more of their two remaining matches to reach the city’s limits. “No towering wall to keep out the baddies?” Chanyeol asks through a wince, looking up at huge silver-white skyscrapers and shiny hovercars as they zoom through the streets. Everything looks new and upscale, like it was made in the past five years, max. 

“They’re going with an open concept,” Kyungsoo says wryly. “It’s a brand new city. They wanted people to come in. Mostly rich people, of course, and supporters of the new government, since it’s pretty close to the capital, but they’re trying to put out this friendly, happy vibe. Of course, there’s sketchier parts further in, and they have their slums, but they do look pretty, don’t they? It’s _Ancora_ , as in _refuge_ , from the Latin.” 

Chanyeol grimaces in a combination of pain and skepticism. “Refuge. Right. How do they keep the people in line, then?”

“Really strict policing. There are cameras and R-Guards literally everywhere, and they’re committed to their jobs. So keep your head down.”

“Yeah, sure, okay. Where can I find someone to treat the wound I sustained from killing their huge robot spider?”

Kyungsoo snorts softly. “Better start looking, huh?”

They dive into the maze of Ancora’s streets, and even though most of the smaller alleyways are impossible to get into, Chanyeol still thinks the city might be big enough and complex enough to be considered a terrain all of its own. Yixing had said there are five, and the Wastelands would have been the third. The city is definitely separate from the Wastelands—Chanyeol knows, because for the first time in days, he gets to flip up his visor and breathe in fresh air. 

Kyungsoo practically rips off his mask the moment he can, spitting, “God, it’s like breathing through cotton in there.”

Chanyeol chuckles softly, limping along beside him and trying not to look too much like he’s about to keel over. “Why are there still people wearing masks around here?” he asks, gesturing to the people on the streets around them. Everything is unnervingly orderly and quiet, besides the usual hustle and bustle of city life, like it had been in Hath except on a much larger scale. He wonders if that’s a video game thing, or if it has a backstory. 

“Ehh, the air’s not always great. Polluted and all. But it won’t kill you, it just smells bad.” Kyungsoo waves his hand around. 

“You know what, I didn’t even notice,” Chanyeol says with a hoarse laugh. He grits his teeth through a wave of pain, beating his fist against his opposite hip to distract himself, then says, “So where am I supposed to be getting hints or whatever? What’s your advice, O Great Guide?”

“You haven’t called me that in a while,” Kyungsoo muses. He’s infinitely more relaxed now that they’re inside the city borders, with still an extra match and a couple HP boosters to hold them over. “My script right now is just a very helpful _‘Where could we find someone willing to help us?’_ ” 

“Wow, that gives me a lot to work with,” Chanyeol groans sarcastically. “Should I just start talking to random people again?”

Kyungsoo shrugs. “Couldn’t hurt,” he says vaguely, and that’s it. 

So Chanyeol starts limping through the streets of Ancora, avoiding security T-pods and trying not to spend too much time gaping at the glittering billboards and holographic screens and levitating vehicles. The fashion is a bit weird here, with pointed shoulders and high collars, swirly earrings and a lot of gold makeup and bright, unnatural hair colours, but Chanyeol doesn’t have the time to stop and stare. The multitude of people and noise and activity is overwhelming after days in the Wastelands, when the only sudden movements meant he was about to be attacked. Chanyeol finds himself startling every few seconds, reaching for his weapon on instinct. 

Regardless, he speaks to every person who makes speech options pop up in front of him, and none of them provide much more information than that everyone seems to be suspicious of everyone else, and that he should be careful of the ruffians that lurk around the city, and don’t talk too loud, someone might hear. Everyone skirts around the topic of how much their lives suck. Chanyeol’s HP goes down, his _poisoned_ bar grows, and he starts getting a little desperate. 

He gets exactly nowhere until the general peace of the city is disturbed by a loud voice shouting, “Help! Somebody help me!”

Honestly, Chanyeol does not particularly feel like helping anyone. He’s in excruciating pain, his HP isn’t especially high, and he has some very important things to do. But before he can turn around and walk the other way, the voice gets closer, and a boy half-falls out of a nearby alleyway right in front of him, clutching at his side. He catches sight of Chanyeol, eyes wide and desperate, and says, “Please, sir, help me.”

Chanyeol groans, stumbling as someone on the street bumps into him, and looks around briefly. There are no R-Guards nearby for him to pawn this boy off onto, so he sighs loudly and snaps, “What?”

“It’s my father, sir, he beats me.” The boy’s face is dirty, his eyes large and watery, his clothes rattier than most out here. “He beats my mother, too, you have to help me, he can’t find me.”

Chanyeol groans again, more loudly. “Buddy, look, I’m really sorry, but I’m super busy right now.” He begins to turn away.

The boy’s eyes get wider, and he lurches forwards to catch Chanyeol’s arm imploringly. There’s a bruise on his jaw, and he looks so scared and pitiful, his skin sun-darkened beneath his pink-red hair. “Please, please sir, I can’t let him find me, you need to help me.”

“Bud, honestly, I would if I could, but if you haven’t noticed, I am—” He freezes, blinks. “You don’t have speech options.”

The boy’s large eyes blink back, and Chanyeol sees them flick over his shoulder to something behind him, a nervous twitch. Chanyeol turns around quickly. 

Another figure is standing, half-hidden in shadow, just inside another alleyway. He has something in his hands, something familiar and electronic with the backing pried off, and he glances up instinctively when Chanyeol looks at him, startling. His eyes are wide above his mask. “Hey!” Chanyeol shouts, lunging after him. 

Chanyeol only remembers he’s injured and half-crippled with pain _after_ he’s chased the other man down, one hand around the collar of his shirt. He gasps and wheezes, doubled over in pain, then straightens, looking the guy over. At first, he’d assumed this was the boy’s father, but then he sees what’s in his hands. It’s—or _was_ —Chanyeol’s ECD, now dismantled, several wires sticking out at odd angles. “What the hell?” He pushes the guy against the nearest wall, pins him there roughly, and snatches it back. “Dude, what? How did you even—was the kid a distraction?”

The man against the wall looks haughty, and Chanyeol shoves him, then reaches up to tug his mask off. A startlingly young face peers back at him, fifteen at most. His face is just as dirty as the other boy’s, and his multi-coloured hair is shaggy and wild. “What?” he spits. 

“Oh my god, you’re just a kid. What the hell are you doing with my stuff? Were you trying to rob me?”

The boy averts his eyes. “You’re the one who fell for it,” he says snidely. 

“So he _was_ a distraction. Pretty good actor,” Chanyeol mutters, and the boy smirks. “Well, not today, buddy. I really, desperately need the money on this thing, so please just leave me alone.”

“What do you need it for?” the boys asks scathingly, like he’s used to people having more money than they know what to do with. 

Chanyeol scowls, stepping back and keeping a tight grip on his ECD. “Dude, seriously?” He gestures emphatically at his gaping wound. “I’m dying.”

Kyungsoo appears at his elbow suddenly, head tilted to the side. “How did you do that?” he asks the boy. 

Chanyeol looks at him in disbelief. “Seriously, Soo? I think we have more important things to do than ask this kid how he orchestrated a robbery.”

Kyungsoo sends him a flat look. “He was halfway to hacking into the DNA-sensitive hardware. That’s not easy, Chanyeol, I told you that at the beginning of the game. And he’s a kid. Consider it wanting to know so we can avoid future situations.”

Rainbow Hair snorts. “It’s easy,” he says, “if you’re not an idiot. You just have to disable the DNA scanner.”

“It’s _easy_ to disable government-produced electronics?” Kyungsoo asks, one eyebrow raised. 

“Uh, yeah. If you know anything.” 

Chanyeol grits his teeth, hissing through a fresh wave of pain and trying to stay upright. “So I could disable attack bots and other government robots?”

Rainbow Hair raises his eyebrows, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Well, _you_ probably couldn’t,” he says testily, and he _is_ full of himself, isn’t he. “And besides, the more intelligent the bot, the harder it is to stop them,” he adds. “Because they can reboot themselves. Most programmers have a kill code for emergencies. I’m sure all the SCABs have one, and the government is just letting them run wild for their own sake.” Then, chin lifted, “Why would you want to know that, though?”

Chanyeol snorts. “Because a great big robotic spider monster bit me, and I’m currently _dying._ I’d like to avoid this in the future.”

Sharp eyes glance down at his wound, then back up. “I could tell you about someone who could help,” he says shiftily. “But only if you’re on the right side.

“Oh my god, you are kind of really annoying.” Chanyeol sighs, clenching his fist as his entire abdomen flashes with fiery pain. “Soo, show him your wristband.”

Kyungsoo looks up at him, his face all flat again in that way Chanyeol hates. “Are you sure?”

“God, yes, he doesn’t have speech options and he knows how to hack into government electronics and he’s obviously not a fan of them, and I’d really like to get the antidote before I need to set my stomach on fire again. Just _do it._ ” 

Kyungsoo huffs out a short breath, then holds his arm up and pulls up his sleeve. Rainbow Hair eyes it, then smirks. 

“I’m Sehun,” he says, like he’s smug about it. 

“That’s great,” Chanyeol says. “Now can you tell us where to go?”

Sehun sniffs, then looks away from him huffily. “Kyungsoo, right?”

Kyungsoo hums in acknowledgement, glancing at Chanyeol when he groans. 

“Can you go get Jongin? He’s hiding over there, scared your hero is going to punch him if he comes too close.”

Kyungsoo snorts softly, then goes to fetch the pink-haired boy, who is lurking on the other side of the street. 

“What’s your name?” Sehun asks mildly. 

“Chanyeol. Look, I get that you’re, I don’t know, lonely and bratty and stuff, but I am literally, _literally_ dying, and I’m not really in the mood for conversation. Can you please give me a break?”

Sehun looks grumpy at that, but he relents, glancing at Kyungsoo and Jongin as they make their way back across the street, talking quietly. “The guy I know, he moves around a lot. Doesn’t want to be caught, you know.”

“Sounds familiar,” Chanyeol mutters. “Please don’t tell me I have to search for him.”

“Nah, I know where he is.” Sehun is smug again. “He asks me for help sometimes. I’ll give you directions if you pay me.” He glances down at the half-dismantled ECD in Chanyeol’s hands. 

Chanyeol shoves him up against the wall roughly, and nearby, Jongin cries out and jumps forward to pull at his arm. “Sehun, buddy, look. I normally wouldn’t be mean to a poor, lonely kid stuck in a video game,” he growls, trying to shake Jongin off. “I have sympathy for you, I really do. But I am in some really intense pain, and I just crossed the fucking Wastelands, and I think I might shoot you if you don’t tell me where to go _right now._ I won’t kill you. But I will shoot you.”

“Don’t!” Jongin yells fiercely, trying to tug him away. “Don’t hurt him, he can’t help it, it’s in his script!”

“Well I don’t have a script, so I’m doing what I can!” Chanyeol yells back, struggling against his hands, elbowing Jongin in the gut.

“I’ll tell you, fuck, leave Jongin alone!” Sehun jumps forward, eyes wide. “Don’t touch him, please.”

Chanyeol holds his hands up, startled by the desperation in both the boys’ voices. Maybe he should have threatened _Jongin_ to get Sehun to start talking. 

“Look, Chanyeol, I just have to get through my script, so _please_ bear with me. Do you think I want to say this crap? Do you think I’m like this because I want to be? _No._ ” Sehun looks frustrated, and he clutches Jongin to his side, their hands intertwined like they can’t bear to let go. “Do you understand how scary it is to have words put into your mouth? And you can’t control it, they just _come out_ , and your body wants to move and your face wants to make expressions and you think that if you don’t do it, maybe you’ll die. You don’t know, because no one ever fucking _told you_ , you don’t get training for this, you just wake up one day in this fictional world, with all these memories in your head and all these words and feelings and you know you haven’t been here your whole life, because you _know_ which life is your real one, but the longer you’re here, the more you think maybe that other life is the fake one.” He’s breathing hard, gasping, and Jongin is holding onto his hand and turning his face to look at him, shushing him with wide eyes. Chanyeol thinks he might be watching a panic attack in progress.

“Sehun, shh, it’s okay,” Kyungsoo murmurs, stepping forward. “You should have said something the last time I was here, I would have explained some things, I didn’t know—”

Sehun waves him away, shaking his head and taking deep breaths. Jongin wraps him in a hug until he calms down, and then Sehun clears his throat, looking embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he says. “That wasn’t in my script.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Chanyeol says, feeling a little shocked by the outburst. 

“I’ve been here a long time,” Kyungsoo says soothingly, “I can tell you some of the things you haven’t had time to figure out yet.”

Sehun shakes his head, looking more miserable than ever now. Jongin presses his face into his shoulder. “No, no, your hero really is dying, and I think he might actually shoot me. He bypassed most of my monologuing with his threat, anyway.”

Chanyeol almost crumples under a wave of pain and doesn’t bother responding. He just waves his hand encouragingly. 

Sehun takes a deep breath. “He’s under the parking lot under Paradisa, the ritzy hotel that shut down for construction last month. There’s a door that leads to the basement at the back, knock twice, wait, then knock another three times. Tell him I sent you.” He talks quickly, like he’s trying to rush through it. “Be careful, he’s a little trigger-happy.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Chanyeol huffs. “Thanks.”

“He’s really in a lot of pain,” Kyungsoo tells the boys apologetically. “He wasn’t actually going to shoot anyone.”

“I might have,” Chanyeol says darkly, even though really, no he wouldn’t have. He hopes. 

“Your ECD should work fine,” Sehun says miserably. “Do you want me to put it back together for you?”

Chanyeol narrows his eyes. “Are you going to steal anything?”

“He won’t,” Jongin promises. Sehun glances at him, and Jongin mutters, “It won’t be the first time we’ve gone without eating.”

Chanyeol feels a pang of pity, but the pang of pain in his stomach is a little more pressing, so he lets Sehun put his ECD back together swiftly, and then he thanks him and turns to leave. 

“If I get a chance, I’ll talk to you later,” Kyungsoo promises the boys behind him. “I know it’s hard. But he’s really in a hurry. Jongin, I’ll—later, yeah? I should have done it last time, but it happened so quickly—”

“It’s fine,” Chanyeol hears Jongin mumble. “We’ll get by. It’s just been hard, but— You should go, I think he’s going to pass out.”

Chanyeol would agree. He’s limping heavily, his joints locking up, and his vision is going a little dark at the edges. He figures he has another fifteen minutes before he’ll have to burn out the poison again. He only has one match left, and he wants to make it count; Jongdae had needed it after he got the antidote, and Chanyeol has the feeling he will, too. He really doesn’t want to have to use the flamethrower.

Kyungsoo joins him quickly, slipping an arm around his waist to support some of his weight, and they get moving. 

It takes ten minutes to find Paradisa, and it is, indeed, a ritzy hotel, with glittering glass turrets and a sweeping grassy park behind it, complete with an Olympic-sized pool and several restaurants. Chanyeol shakes his head and heads down into the underground parking lot, which is dark and empty while the hotel is under construction. Their footsteps echo off concrete walls, and Chanyeol wants to just run all the way to the back door Sehun mentioned, but it’s painful just to move at all, so that’s out of the question. Kyungsoo half-drags him there, and Chanyeol weakly knocks against the door, first twice, then another three times. His guide is tense and silent and infuriatingly flat-faced, and Chanyeol knows he should be worried, but he can’t seem to muster the energy.

The door opens, and a man with violet hair peeks out. “We’re under construction,” he says, frowning. 

“Hi, Sehun sent me, I’m kind of dying,” Chanyeol says, hoping that kid didn’t lie to him just so he could make a quick getaway. 

But the man’s eyebrows lift. “Wonderful. Come on in. Who are you with?” 

Chanyeol clenches his fist against a wave of pain. “The rebellion?”

The man grins. “Interesting. I’m Minseok, nice to meet you.”


	17. Chapter 17

“Something tells me I’m about to get attacked or some shit,” Chanyeol sighs as he steps into the staircase. “I’m Chanyeol, by the way.”

The man laughs softly, eyes bright as he closes the door behind Chanyeol and Kyungsoo. “Welcome to my lair,” he says, lifting sharp eyebrows. “Prepare to die.”

“You better be fucking kidding me,” Chanyeol says seriously. There are no speech options. This guy is real, which means he could be deviating from script. 

His response earns him another laugh. “Yeah, yeah, come on in. Looks like you got yourself into a bit of a scrape there.” Minseok gestures to his torso as he leads them down the stairs. Chanyeol basically just lets Kyungsoo and gravity do all the work for him as he follows. “Need some help with that?”

“I would honestly love some,” Chanyeol grits out. “Do you have an antidote for Wasteland spider poison? Venom? I think it’s technically venom.”

“Unless you’ve been eating spiders, yeah, it’s venom. Don’t worry about semantics, though, I know what you need.” At the bottom of the stairs is a small, dark room lined with boilers and pumps of some sort, and through another door is a larger, slightly emptier room, full of tools and cobwebby crates and boxes. Minseok pries the lid off of one and rummages around in it before producing a small glass vial. “Here’s the stuff.”

“Oh thank god. That won’t kill me, will it? You’re not going to kill me and steal my stuff, right? Because that would piss me right off.”

“Nah, I’m not going to kill you. But I still need to make a living, bud. You got anything to trade?” Minseok looks him over appraisingly. 

Chanyeol sighs loudly. “I have some money on my ECD, unless that Sehun kid stole it all. I have a couple portions of Wasteland fungus, if you want it. You can probably have my flamethrower, I’m not planning on going back into the Wastelands unless I have to.”

Minseok hums, taking the things Chanyeol fumblingly offers him and looking them over. “This flamethrower is a piece of shit,” he says, running a fingertip over a patch of rust on the barrel. 

“Dude, she served me well. Don’t say mean things to her.” Chanyeol flips his visor down to check his inventory, swearing when he sees how much money he has on his ECD. “Fuck, Sehun actually did steal some of it.”

Minseok snorts. “Of course he did, he’s a street urchin. See an opportunity, take an opportunity.” His face softens. “How is he, anyway? And Jongin? It’s been so long since I saw them…”

Chanyeol waves his hand dismissively. “They’re fine, Sehun’s a brat. Can we please focus?”

“Right, right. You’re dying, okay, I get it. I’ll take the flamethrower and half your money.”

Chanyeol is almost positive he’s getting a shitty deal. But he really, _really_ doesn’t have the time to argue, so he grunts his approval and takes the vial when Minseok offers it. Without stopping to think about it, he uncorks it with his teeth, sits down to lean against a sturdy wooden box, and pours it into his wound. 

His whole body seems to explode with intense pain, and then he blacks out. 

 

When he comes to, his whole torso is throbbing, and Kyungsoo is straddling his hips, looking down at him with concerned eyes. “You okay?”

Chanyeol groans, moving his limbs carefully. His joints aren’t locked anymore, and he feels like he can inhale fully for the first time in hours. “Do I still need to burn it out?” he asks, and his voice is hoarse, like he’s been screaming. He probably has. 

“No, we did it while you were still out,” Minseok says, leaning over to smirk at him. “You’re lucky this place is completely soundproofed, or else they would have heard you all the way in the Capital.”

Chanyeol snorts, then coughs. When he flips his visor down, he sees that his _poisoned_ bar has disappeared, and his _injured_ timer is counting down from 30. He looks up, and Kyungsoo is still sitting on his thighs, watching him. “You can get off me,” he rasps, and Kyungsoo looks surprised before he scrambles off, allowing him to sit up. 

Not that Chanyeol wouldn’t like Kyungsoo in his lap forever. But maybe it would be nicer under other circumstances. 

“You’re healing up nicely,” Kyungsoo tells him, speaking faster than usual. “You’ll be good to go in a bit, though there might be some residual pain leftover. The burn marks will stay for a while, like Jongdae’s did, but they shouldn’t bother you.”

Chanyeol nods slowly, poking at the healing wounds on his stomach. The pain abates with every passing second, and it’s sweet, sweet relief. “Should I take an HP boost, or is it almost bedtime?” he asks. “If I have to fight again between now and bedtime, I think I’ll cry.”

Minseok laughs. “No, no, you can stay here for the evening, it’s almost nightfall anyway. And I want to talk to you, Mr. I’m-with-the-rebellion. Most people don’t say that so openly, you know. For good reason.”

Chanyeol ducks his head embarrassedly, tugging off his helmet and setting it on the floor. “I was in a hurry,” he mumbles. “I wanted you to let me in.”

“And what if I had been an undercover cop?” Minseok asks, quirking an eyebrow. “Sehun could have been in on it. You’d be in deep shit then.”

Chanyeol grimaces. “Well. I’m here, and not dead, so. Thanks for not killing me.”

“I still could,” Minseok says, grinning ferally, and then he holds out his hand. “We didn’t get a proper introduction earlier.”

Chanyeol hums, shaking his hand and glancing at his stats. They’re kind of amazing, actually. Combat at 130, defense at 110, stealth at 140. His knowledge, however, is only at 50—the same as Chanyeol’s, though Chanyeol has the feeling he knows different stuff. 

“Kyungsoo,” Minseok says after he drops Chanyeol’s hand. “Long time no see. Seriously.”

Kyungsoo hums. “Six months, if I’m not mistaken. Real time. You’d just gotten here.”

“Six months,” Minseok repeats pensively. “Feels like more than that. A lot more.”

“I know what you mean.” Kyungsoo smiles wryly. “Have you been getting by alright? We didn’t get much time to talk last time.”

“I’ve been...okay.” Minseok shrugs. “I mean, it’s no walk in the park. With Luhan and all.”

“Luhan?” Chanyeol interrupts. “Who’s he?”

Minseok sighs, looking pained. “Alright, it’s flashback time. Here we go. It all started with the original rebel army.” He claps Chanyeol on his shoulder. 

The tugging feeling, by this point, is familiar. The cutscene brings Chanyeol back to a hushed meeting in a dimly lit room, with a big red flag hung at the front. “Neither of the political parties fighting to rule can be trusted with the state of our country,” says a hard-faced woman standing at the head of the table. “We must take matters into our own hands.” Off to the side, another woman holds her son close to her side, nodding along determinedly. A younger Minseok, maybe fifteen years old, watches the proceedings with rapt attention. 

“I want to help,” he says in the next scene, clutching his mother’s arm. “I know I can help. You have to let me. It’s for the country, Ma, I can’t just sit around and watch it happen.” His mother sighs, then nods. 

The next several scenes show Minseok helping with the rebel effort where he can, passing out weapons, cheering at rallies, painting his face with scarlet paint that runs down his cheeks like blood. Election polls flash by on screens, with the Blue and Black parties fighting to get to the top. Groups of people in red masks crash political rallies for the other two parties, they take over airwaves to try to broadcast “the real truth,” and are subsequently shot down. 

Minseok stands by his mother’s grave, wiping his eyes, and looks determined. 

He makes it out of the war, through sheer luck and a couple of clever maneuvers, but it’s clear that they lost. Yixing pops up in a few scenes, Joonmyun makes a very brief appearance. The Black Party is now in power, with the help of MAISS, and Minseok establishes himself in Ancora, causing trouble for the new government but always evading capture with a wicked smile on his face. He hacks into government websites, stages gunfights, generally just makes life hell for the government workers in the city, and laughs the whole way. Apparently, if the Black Party’s going to be ruling, at least they’re not going to have fun doing it. 

Minseok gathers followers, too. He makes connections, builds up a base. One face keeps reappearing, pink-haired and smiling, never far from Minseok’s side, clapping him on the back, laughing with him. _Luhan,_ Minseok calls him, in brief snatches of muffled dialogue. They’re obviously close. 

And then there’s an attack on the main rebel base in the city, and Luhan is at the forefront of it, wearing an officer’s uniform, looking smug. “You lied to me, you son of a bitch!” Minseok screams at him, ducking out of the way of relentless blasts. 

“It wasn’t hard,” Luhan laughs, gun in hand. “You lapped it up. Easiest promotion I ever got.”

Most of Minseok’s friends and allies are killed, but Minseok escapes. But he doesn’t run away. 

The next series of scenes show Minseok focusing all of his attention on making _Luhan’s_ life hell, attacking him when he’s on duty, causing riots on the streets in front of his station, sending him threats and taunts on paper stained with blood. He never manages to kill him, but he tries his very damn best, hatred clear on his face. Wanted posters go up all over the city, Minseok’s face plastered on dozens of billboards, but he never gets caught. “Kill me, fucker,” he says in the final scene, holding his arms out during a shootout. “Do it. What could you possibly do that’s worse than what you’ve already done?” He moves to put his hands behind his head, then quickly covers his ears and closes his eyes as a flash bomb goes off. When everyone’s vision clears, he’s gone. 

“Well,” Chanyeol says, opening his eyes and blinking. “That was dramatic.”

Minseok laughs bitterly. “I live an exciting life.”

“Can I get a quick rundown of events, just to make sure I understand what happened? I feel like I might have missed something.”

Minseok shrugs, leaning against the wall. “Sure. Long story short, my mom was part of the original rebellion, and I joined with her. I was really intense about it. She died, and I kept going. I did what I could to start up a new rebellion following the war, and to make things hard for the new ruling party. I established a base here, with some old rebels and some new ones. Luhan was a new recruit. A good one, I thought, a committed one. He learned a lot of stuff about how we operated, where our bases were. Turned out he was a fucking officer for the government and was bringing all that information back home to Daddy Dictator, and we lost almost...almost everyone. And he got a nice new promotion for all his good work. So I kind of committed myself to, you know, ruining his life. Since he ruined mine.”

Chanyeol nods slowly. “Wow. What an asshole.”

“Yeah. Really.” Minseok gives a tight smile. “We don’t get along so well anymore.”

“You were friends before he double-crossed you, right?” 

Minseok nods, crossing his arms across his chest. “It’s a bit more complicated than that, though,” he says, looking like the words pain him. 

“How?”

“Luhan, he— We knew each other in real life. _Best friends_ in real life. We got pulled in together. Got stuck in these roles. Just our luck.” Minseok swallows visibly, looks away. 

“Oh,” Chanyeol says dumbly. “Oh, _wow._ That is...that’s really shitty.”

“Yeah,” Minseok says hoarsely, then clears his throat. “It’s been...it’s been rough. You know, when you should _want_ to see that person, because he’s the only person you know out here, he’s familiar and you care about him and you want to know if he’s okay, if he’s struggling, except part of you thinks he killed all your friends and stabbed you in the back, and you’ve spent the last several years trying to kill him or at least make his life a living hell, and he’s been trying to kill _you._ So. Yeah, it’s been hard.”

Chanyeol stares at him for a few moments, then shakes his head and closes his eyes. “Game gods, man. They just love to fuck you over.”

“They really, really do,” Minseok agrees darkly. “Do you know how long I spent trying to convince Luhan to play this game? God, he must hate me so much.”

“The real Luhan doesn’t hate you, Minseok,” Kyungsoo says softly. “I’m sure he feels exactly how you do.”

Minseok’s hands go up to curl in his own hair, tugging frustratedly. “It’s just— I know Luhan never did anything to hurt me, but my memory tells me he did. I can’t control how much I hate him, I can’t control my actions against him. Part of me wants to steal him away, run away from this place, but even if that were possible, the other part of me doesn’t trust him, wants to _hurt_ him. I don’t know whether it’d be easier to just...give in and become this person, or to hold on to what I know is the truth. What I _think_ is the truth. It’s so hard to know anything anymore.” 

Chanyeol takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly through his nose. “We are all going to need so much fucking therapy when we get out of this.”

Minseok gives a sharp bark of laughter. “ _If_ we get out of this.”

Chanyeol stays silent. He doesn’t really like to think about that, because if he doesn’t get out, it’s because he’s dead. 

They sit down after that, make themselves comfortable, and Minseok asks after Sehun and Jongin again, sighing like a concerned father. “They only got here a couple months before me and Lu,” he says, frowning. “I barely get to see them. They’re so young, I wish I could...look after them more.”

“What’s up with them, anyway?” Chanyeol asks. “I didn’t get to talk to them much, I was kind of...busy.”

“They’re both war orphans. Or, well, Sehun is, both his parents were rebels who died in the war when he was like...eleven. Jongin’s were civilians, he’s not sure if they’re dead, he doesn’t know where they are. They met here, as street kids, and paired up. They take care of each other, you know? Get into trouble, sometimes, but they’re careful. Sehun’s smart—like, _really_ smart. I’m sure you noticed.”

“Oh, I noticed. He knows it, too,” Chanyeol mutters. 

Minseok laughs. “Yeah, he’s cocky. That’s mostly his in-game personality kicking in, but I’m sure he’s kind of like that in real life, too. He’s smart in real life as well, but I don’t think it’s nearly to this extent. Top of his class, good with a computer, but not kid genius level.” He shrugs. “Anyway, they make a living off of robbing people, and I’d tell him off if most of the people here weren’t rolling in money. Sehun’s on a few Wanted lists himself, but he’s trying his hardest to keep Jongin off of them. The way Jonginnie clings to him, though, I doubt that’ll last long. They’re pretty attached.”

Chanyeol hums. “Jongin looked ready to throw himself in front of me when I threatened to shoot Sehun.”

Minseok looks amused. “Yeah, that sounds like him. He’d do it, too. He’s assigned himself the position of Older Brother. Sehun’s the brains, so Jongin thinks he has to be the brawn.” He sighs. “They’re good kids. They got dealt bad cards.”

“I’m hoping to talk to them,” Kyungsoo murmurs. “They both seem like they could use a little guidance. They’re scared.”

Minseok nods, wincing. “We’re still pretty new to this. We’re still figuring things out.”

“We all are,” Kyungsoo assures him. “Even me.”

They talk a little bit about the rebel effort after that, the people Minseok has recruited since Luhan’s betrayal, the way they stay spread out across the city, the way none of them know where everyone else is, not even Minseok. They’re not going to risk another massacre. 

“What about Yixing?” Chanyeol asks suddenly. “I saw him in your cutscene. You know him?”

Minseok nods slowly. “I haven’t spoken to him directly in a long time. I heard through the grapevine that things aren’t going so well for him in the mountains, though. Someone set off alarm pings, and the place is crawling with scouts.”

Chanyeol clenches his jaw, sick with guilt. “Yeah, that was my fault,” he says quietly. 

“I’m sure it wasn’t on purpose,” Minseok says reassuringly. “He doesn’t blame you.”

“You could go back and help him,” Kyungsoo says. “If you wanted.”

Chanyeol snorts. “As if I’m going back across the Wastelands _and_ the river to get to him. It’d probably be too late by the time I got there, anyway.”

Kyungsoo shrugs. “I’m just saying. It’s an option.”

Chanyeol sighs, shaking his head, and prays not for the first time that a stupid mistake on his part isn’t going to get Yixing killed. 

Thinking about Yixing reminds him of something else he saw in those flashbacks, though. “You knew Joonmyun, too, right?”

“Vaguely,” Minseok says. “I knew _of_ him. He’s helped the rebellion a lot.”

Chanyeol shrugs off his pack, digging around and pulling out a picture he’s barely thought about since he received it. “Joonmyun gave me this,” he says, showing it to Minseok. “Do you recognize the people in it at all?”

Minseok takes the photo, humming. “Those are Kyungsoo’s parents. They were really important to the rebellion movement, of course I know them.” He glances up at Kyungsoo. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Kyungsoo nods, waving his condolences away. 

“What about the other man?” Chanyeol prompts. “Was he part of the rebellion too?” 

Minseok peers at Chanyeol’s father in the picture, then shrugs. “He looks vaguely familiar, but I don’t know him. Seeing him doesn’t give me a particularly good feeling, though. I can’t tell you much else. No idea where the picture’s from or anything.”

Chanyeol deflates. “Shit. I was hoping you’d help me figure out what it means or why Joonmyun gave it to me or _something._ ” 

Minseok shrugs, then looks at Kyungsoo. “That’s awesome that you’re following in your parents’ footsteps, Kyungsoo. You’d make them proud.”

Kyungsoo huffs. “I hardly even remember them,” he confesses. 

“They loved you,” Minseok tells him. “They worked hard to get you, and to protect you.”

Kyungsoo blinks at him. “I’m sorry?”

Now Minseok looks confused as well. “Your parents...you’re not their biological son, you knew that, right?”

“What? No, I didn’t know that.” Kyungsoo frowns, snatching the photo back and staring at the faces of his parents. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” Minseok’s eyebrows furrow. “No one told you?”

“No, this is the first time a hero’s ever triggered this scene. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Minseok taps against his leg and hums thoughtfully. “Well,” he says. “They must have had a reason for not telling you.”

“They didn’t tell me _anything,_ ” Kyungsoo says, looking annoyed. “How am I supposed to help the rebels if I know nothing about them?”

Minseok just shrugs and shakes his head, refusing to say anymore. So much for that. 

 

They go to bed shortly after that, sprawled out on the floor, heads resting on flat pillows that Minseok pulls out of nowhere. They murmur to each other in the dark for a while, just about nothing, and Chanyeol has the feeling Minseok finds it soothing just to hear another voice. Chanyeol has stripped out of his armour by this point, after Minseok promised that they’re safe here, and Kyungsoo got him to pull down the top half of his bodysuit earlier to check on the state of his burns. They’re all healed up by now, but Kyungsoo said, “Your skin is all red and warm,” and Chanyeol hadn’t had the heart to tell him it was because Kyungsoo was running his fingers along his bare stomach. 

Now Minseok is asleep, his breaths deep and even, and Chanyeol is doing his best to join him, listening to his own heartbeat. It’s been a long day—a _bad_ day—but so much has happened that he feels the need to mull over it for a while, to make sure he processed everything. It doesn’t feel like just that morning since he’d left Baekhyun and Jongdae in the Wastelands. He misses them. They’d know how to get Kyungsoo to stop making his flat, anxious face. They’d know how to get Minseok to smile, too. A real smile, not a manufactured one. 

Half-formed thoughts swirl around in his head relentlessly, and eventually, he gives up and sits upright, leaning against a crate and staring at his hands in the dim, flickering light given off by a single bulb. He tries to make sense of all that’s happened today, all the bits of conversations that didn’t add up in his brain, all the concerned looks passed between characters that he couldn’t figure out the cause of. But he’s too tired, his brain is too sluggish, and he doesn’t think he’d be able to figure anything out regardless. 

He’s not sure how long he stays like that, but after a while Kyungsoo shifts on the floor, then makes a soft sound before moving to sit beside Chanyeol, their arms pressed together, warm and solid. “Can’t sleep?” Kyungsoo asks softly. 

Chanyeol hums vaguely in response. “My brain won’t turn off. Unfair, because it went through a lot today.”

“It did,” Kyungsoo agrees. “Are you okay?”

Chanyeol shrugs, feeling his shoulder bump against Kyungsoo’s. “I’m alive. And no longer in excruciating pain. So that’s good.”

“But are you _okay?_ ” Kyungsoo presses. 

Chanyeol sighs, shifting to drop his head onto Kyungsoo’s shoulder tiredly. “I don’t know. I think so. As okay as I ever am.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t move for a moment, and then he leans his head against Chanyeol’s, and the tension drains out of Chanyeol’s body. “Today was rough,” he says quietly. “I was scared for you.”

“I could tell,” Chanyeol says, smiling. “You called me _Yeollie._ ” 

Kyungsoo stiffens against him, and he remains silent until Chanyeol lifts his head to look at him, and then he just looks away, and Chanyeol thinks he’s _blushing._ “So?” he mutters, and Chanyeol laughs, pressing close against him and knocking his head gently against Kyungsoo’s cheek. 

“I liked it,” Chanyeol says, voice teasing, and he pushes his head into the crook of Kyungsoo’s neck and presses up against him until his guide obligingly drapes an arm around his shoulders, patting his arm rhythmically. 

“You’re awful,” Kyungsoo says, and Chanyeol isn’t sure what, exactly, he’s referring to, but it doesn’t really matter because he doesn’t mean it anyway. 

Chanyeol sighs happily, tucking his knees up close to his chest and soaking in Kyungsoo’s warmth, his familiarity. It’s warm in Minseok’s little hideout, so close to the boilers, and Chanyeol is comfortable here next to Kyungsoo, the only constant in his absurd life. Everything is so wild, Chanyeol has to fear for his life basically every second of every day, he has to fight to stay alive, he never knows if he’s doing things right or if he can trust himself or others, but he knows he can rely on Kyungsoo to be there, and to be there for _him._

Folding himself even closer into Kyungsoo’s side, Chanyeol closes his eyes and thinks about what it’d be like to turn around and kiss him, just kiss the _hell_ out of him and have Kyungsoo kiss him back, and it’s a really nice thought. Kyungsoo’s hand has moved to Chanyeol’s head and starts scratching gently at his scalp, Chanyeol’s thick greyish-purple hair sifting through his fingers, and for a little while Chanyeol imagines they’re somewhere else, imagines they’re in Chanyeol’s room back home in Korea and nobody is trying to kill them and he doesn’t have to save the world in the morning. He imagines they’re curled on Chanyeol’s ratty couch and they’re sleepy and warm and together and safe. He wants that really bad. 

He wants Kyungsoo to be with him forever. Even if they ever get out, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to let Kyungsoo go. Not after this, after everything they’ve been through. He wonders if Kyungsoo feels the same, even a little bit. Kyungsoo always tells him he tries not to get attached to heroes, but Chanyeol thinks it’s inevitable, and he wonders briefly if Kyungsoo has been like this with any of the other heroes that have passed through. He’s not going to be jealous—it’s hard to be jealous of someone who’s dead—but he wonders about it, and then he lets it go. That was before. This is now, and Chanyeol is here, and they’re together, and Chanyeol’s not letting him go. 

“Never leave,” he says softly, breathing in deep through his nose. 

Kyungsoo tenses against him, and Chanyeol hears his breath catch in his chest. His fingers curl in Chanyeol’s hair, and they don’t let go even when Chanyeol nudges up with his head. “What?”

“Never leave me,” Chanyeol repeats, quietly, letting the words hang in the air. He means a lot of things by it, but he doesn’t know how else to express it, how else to tell Kyungsoo that he just needs him beside him, with him. That Kyungsoo has become as vital to Chanyeol as breathing, out here in this foreign place. That that isn’t going to change, even if they get out of there. There’s a connection, Chanyeol thinks, that forms when you save a world together. If Kyungsoo doesn’t want him in the same way that Chanyeol does, then Chanyeol will settle for something else, but he won’t give Kyungsoo up completely, he won’t be able to.

“I just need you,” he sighs at last, and although Kyungsoo doesn’t reply, he starts running his fingers through Chanyeol’s hair again, and Chanyeol thinks that’s as close as he’s going to get to a promise. 

Several minutes pass before Kyungsoo murmurs, “I need you, too, you know.” It’s so quiet that Chanyeol almost doesn’t hear it, but Kyungsoo’s mouth is close to his ear, and the room is silent, and nothing can be lost on him. 

He pulls back slightly to look at Kyungsoo and smiles, because on some level, yeah, he knows that, but it doesn’t hurt to have it said out loud. Kyungsoo tips his head down, but he’s smiling too, even if he tries to hide it, and there’s something intense and impossible to decipher in his eyes as they meet Chanyeol’s. Against his will, Chanyeol sways forwards, drawn in magnetically, but Kyungsoo ducks his head and their foreheads bump together, and neither of them moves, breathing quietly in the night. Closing his eyes, Chanyeol runs a hand down Kyungsoo’s arm, feeling the shiver that courses through the other man, but when his fingers reach Kyungsoo’s wrist, his guide pulls away suddenly. Chanyeol’s stomach drops.

“We should sleep,” Kyungsoo says, shifting away and eyeing Minseok, the door, everything but Chanyeol. “You’re tired.”

Chanyeol opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Sighing, he maneuvers back into his bed, rolling to face the wall and closing his eyes. “Goodnight,” he mumbles. 

“Goodnight,” Kyungsoo whispers back, and then falls silent behind him. 

Chanyeol’s thoughts are more confused than ever, tumbling around in his head uselessly, but eventually exhaustion overtakes him. He drops into a slumber that’s mostly dreamless, save for a voice that Chanyeol vaguely recognizes from another dream, echoing over and over, _“Strike at the heart, not the head. Strike at the heart, not the head. Strike at the heart._ ” Which, okay. Whatever _that_ means. 

 

As the sun rises bright and cheerful over Ancora the next day, Chanyeol drags himself out of bed to a room that’s silent and tense. That’s really not the way he likes to wake up in the morning, but he figures this time he deserves it, considering he kind of sort of made a move on Kyungsoo last night and was essentially rejected. He’s not _sure_ that that’s what had happened, or if that’s the reason why his guide is so withdrawn upon waking, but Chanyeol is fairly certain it’s not a good sign. Minseok keeps glancing between them, too, his expression carefully schooled into something that gives away nothing, and Chanyeol wonders vaguely if he heard them last night. 

“Well,” he says at last, once he’s pulled on all of his armour except his helmet and checked that he has all his weapons in easy reach. His voice sounds too loud in the small, quiet room. “You know I’d really rather not leave if I didn’t have to, but I’m low on all sorts of supplies, so I sort of need to restock. Anywhere I could buy some HP boosters and stuff?”

Minseok looks at him, then at Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo shakes his head the tiniest bit. “Yeah,” Minseok says. “There’s a market not far from here. It’s probably not the kind of sketchy, black-market thing you’re used to, but as long as you keep your head down, you should be fine. You don’t have any red on you.”

Chanyeol nods vaguely and doesn’t bother mentioning the fact that Kyungsoo does; the wristband stays hidden under his guide’s sleeve, always. 

No one talks to Chanyeol as they walk to the market. Minseok, wearing a mask that covers most of his face and bright-coloured clothes to match the weird fashion in Ancora, speaks in low tones with Kyungsoo, who seems to be giving him rapid-fire pointers about living in a video game as an NPC, what’s allowed, how to get around following the script to the letter, things like that. It’s not relevant to Chanyeol, who can say whatever he wants, so he stays out of it, figuring he’s not wanted in this conversation anyway. 

At one point, they pass by a large white building backed by a foreboding, barbed-wired, fenced-in area, and Minseok shoots it the finger as they walk past on the other side of the street. “What’s that?” Chanyeol asks, glancing between Minseok and the building. 

Immediately, Minseok looks sheepish above his mask. “Oh, it’s the main station for the Dictator’s officers. Luhan works from there, so, you know.” He ducks his head in embarrassment. 

Kyungsoo gives the building a cold look as well as they pass by, and Chanyeol just shakes his head and keeps walking. 

“Why are some of the officers here human, anyway?” Chanyeol asks a moment later. “In Murus they were all robotic, as far as I know. All the scouts in the mountains and on the river, too.”

Minseok nods. “They have a lot of R-Guards out here, too. But they’re mostly good for grunt work, giving out warnings, stuff like that. They’re not intelligent enough to make instinctive decisions. Or, you know, to gain your trust and then betray you.” He says it loudly, like he’s just _daring_ someone to come out and fight him. Then he adds, “But they’re all brainwashed, the human officers. They all honestly _think_ they’re doing the right thing, I think. Upholding justice and fighting for the greater good or whatever. Shortsighted, but admirable, I guess? I try to understand Luhan’s perspective, since, you know. But it’s hard when they’re so _wrong._ ” 

“I know,” Chanyeol says, because he does. It’s just like war, in a way, where both sides think they’re in the right, and that they’re doing everything for the good of their side. And Chanyeol knows a lot about war. 

They keep walking, and eventually Minseok stops and says, “Keep following this street, you’ll end up at the market in a minute or two. Watch out for boy genius petty thieves.”

Chanyeol snorts, then looks at Minseok in surprise. “Wait, where are _you_ going?” 

“I try to keep a low profile, to be honest. The markets are crowded, and a lot of people recognize me.” Minseok winks. “I’m gonna go look for Luhan. He’s probably missed me.”

Chanyeol doesn’t comment on how true that statement probably is. “Oh, alright. Well, I’ll see you later?”

Minseok nods vaguely. “Yeah, maybe.”

His response should have clued Chanyeol in. 

He and Kyungsoo keep walking, and Kyungsoo doesn’t say a word. When Chanyeol looks at him, he’s staring straight ahead, jaw set, eyes hard. His posture doesn’t invite conversation, so Chanyeol bites his tongue and keeps moving. 

They get to the markets after a few minutes, wide streets lined with booths and shops with different labels connoting different specialities, from armour to food to weaponry. Chanyeol pokes around in a few stores, sells all the extra stuff he picked up in the Wastelands. He keeps anything special, anything he thinks might come in handy yet, but he ditches a couple old blasters and battery packs, his old utility belt, the Wasteland fungus, anything he can spare. He’ll need that money soon. 

“I’m going to go check out the food shops,” Kyungsoo says from behind Chanyeol as he mulls over how many HP boosters to buy a few minutes later. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure.” Chanyeol turns around briefly, and Kyungsoo is backing out of the shop, staring off to the side but still facing Chanyeol as he goes. Chanyeol blinks at the avoidant look on his face and sighs. “I’ll come collect you later?”

“Sure,” Kyungsoo mutters, and then he slips away. 

He doesn’t even want to be alone with Chanyeol anymore. Wonderful. 

Chanyeol browses some more, buys a few things, checks on his stats, hums and haws over stats boosts. He considers buying a one-handed shield to up his defense, then wanders out of the general supplies store to look for one. In the background, he can hear some sort of altercation going on, yelling and muffled fighting, but he’s not interested in being lured into another side-quest. “Are shields considered armour or a weapon?” he murmurs to himself, looking around. 

He’s completely blindsided by the force that crashes into him at full speed, nearly knocking him off his feet, and he looks down in shock to see a familiar head of rainbow-coloured hair. “Sehun?”

“Chanyeol!” Sehun says, clutching his arms and looking up at him with wide eyes. “Chanyeol, they took him.”

“What?” 

“Jongin, they took Jongin.” Sehun’s breathing is ragged, like he’s on the verge of a panic attack, and his grip on Chanyeol’s arms is so tight that it’d leave bruises if not for the armour there. He also looks like he’s about to cry. 

“Sehun, calm down. Who took him?” Chanyeol asks, brows furrowing. 

“The officers,” Sehun says hoarsely, and he starts to shake. “They caught him on camera—they think he’s a rebel, he’s _not_ , he’s not anything, he’s just—they _took_ him, Chanyeol.” 

“I’m sorry, Sehun, that’s—that’s awful,” Chanyeol tells him, and it really is, he can tell that Sehun is genuinely torn up about this. “But what am I supposed to do about it? Why are you telling _me?_ ” 

Sehun sucks in huge gulps of air, eyes big. “Because they took Kyungsoo too.”


	18. Chapter 18

Chanyeol can’t breathe for several moments, the air sucked out of his lungs, and the city seems to go silent around him. He stares at Sehun, and both of them are trying to catch their breath. “Kyungsoo?” he repeats, like maybe he heard wrong. 

“Yes,” Sehun pants. “They took them both.”

“How— What happened?” Chanyeol asks desperately. This can’t be happening again. He can’t have lost Kyungsoo again _already._ It’s not fair. 

“There were pictures,” Sehun says, voice choked. “Of Kyungsoo showing Jongin his wristband. There are cameras all over the city, they’re sensitive to red. It was—it was when they were crossing the road, when I sent Kyungsoo to go get Jongin— Is this _my fault?_ ” 

“It’s not,” Chanyeol says immediately, mostly because it looks like Sehun is about to start hyperventilating but also because it’s _not_. “Where are they?”

“They’ve been taken in for questioning, they’re at the station. Jongin, he doesn’t have any affiliations with rebels, but they’ll connect him to me, I _know_ they will, they’ll never believe he’s innocent.” A whine crawls out of Sehun’s throat. “What do I do?”

“Come with me,” Chanyeol says, and his voice is so much more confident than he feels. Maybe it’s because Sehun is right there, young and terrified and practically shaking apart, and he feels the need to be strong for his sake, or maybe it’s just the shock. Is this how Kyungsoo always feels with him? But his heart is pounding, and there’s something painful squeezing at his stomach, and he shouldn’t have let Kyungsoo go out alone, he shouldn’t have let him out of his _sight_ , he should have _known_ something was going on— “We need to find Minseok. He can help, right?”

Sehun nods fervently, and Chanyeol assumes that information would have been in Sehun’s script. Chanyeol turns around and sprints down the street, hearing Sehun close behind him, his ragged breaths and the slap of his shoes loud in this quiet city. 

They find Minseok ten excruciating minutes later, lurking down the street from the station. He looks sympathetic as they approach, as if he already knows what’s happened, but he asks, “What’s going on?” nonetheless. 

“They took— They took Kyungsoo. And Jongin.” Chanyeol swallows hard. “What am I supposed to do?”

Minseok huffs out a breath and shakes his head. “What do you usually do when people get arrested?”

“I don’t know, get them out on bail?” Chanyeol says, but there’s no way he has enough money for that.

Minseok snorts. “Not if they’re rebels you don’t. Right now they’re probably in holding, but as soon as they’re questioned, Kyungsoo’s most likely getting sentenced with life. Or execution, if they find out he’s guilty of something in particular.”

Chanyeol goes cold. “No. There has to be something we can do.”

“Chanyeol—” Minseok starts. 

“No, don’t even _tell_ me I can’t do anything. Because last time someone told me that, I went through hell to be able to take Kyungsoo with me anyway, and I _did._ So fuck that. There’s _always_ a way.” Desperation makes Chanyeol’s voice hoarse, sharper than he means it to be, and he probably shouldn’t sound like he’s threatening someone with stats that are so much higher than his, especially when Minseok’s shown to be more than a little vindictive. 

But the older man just smirks. “Well. We can assume that Luhan’s involved in this, right?”

Chanyeol blinks at him. “What?”

“Probably,” Sehun pipes up from behind him. “They took them back to the station.”

“And getting Kyungsoo and Jongin back would probably cause trouble for Luhan, wouldn’t it?” Minseok prompts. 

“Well. Yes?” Chanyeol says, frowning. 

“Then count me in as an accomplice,” Minseok says with a predatory grin. “I wouldn’t usually do something as suicidal as break someone out of prison just to mess with Luhan, but, well. It’s about time I did something a little more direct in taking down the government, and helping you out sounds like a good first step.”

The breath rushes out of Chanyeol for the second time in fifteen minutes, this time with relief. “Great. Thank you so much. So what do we do?”

Minseok arches his eyebrows at him. “What do you mean? This is your mission. You lead.”

Oh, shit. 

 

For all that planning a prison break in the next twenty-four hours seems like an impossible feat, especially for someone as utterly inexperienced as Chanyeol, he knows he has solid backup. As much as both Minseok and Sehun insist Chanyeol has to be the one to come up with this plan (game law, they say, they’re not allowed to do anything except give script-restricted hints), they know a lot of stuff about the city, the station, and the people inside it, and neither are the least bit scared of breaking a few laws. 

They start by snooping around the station itself, keeping their heads down as they scout out the area. The front is a fortress, with armed guards on either side of the heavy doors and narrow, barred windows. Around the back, though, is that fenced-in area, and Chanyeol looks at it appraisingly. 

“It’s electrically charged,” Minseok tells him immediately. “See the signs everywhere that say _do not touch, you will be electrocuted?_ They’re not lying. And if that doesn’t kill you, the guards around the perimeter will.”

Chanyeol drums his fingers against his thigh. “Are they robot guards?”

Minseok gives him an odd look. “Probably. Why?”

“Because I don’t feel so bad about killing those ones before they kill me,” Chanyeol says with a shrug. “There has to be a way to turn off the charge on the fence, right?”

“From inside the station, sure. But you’d have to get into the control room,” Minseok says.

“Or you could shut it off remotely,” Sehun says. “If you had access to the system and knew how.”

“Yeah, but who the hell would know how to do _that?_ ” Chanyeol asks, rolling his eyes. 

Sehun gives him a pointed look, then glances at his ECD. 

Chanyeol blinks. “Oh. Oh my god, I’m asking a kid to hack into government systems for me.”

“Nothing I haven’t done before,” Minseok says mildly. 

“You stole my money, by the way,” Chanyeol points out. “I’m still pissed about that.”

Sehun smiles winningly. “I needed it very badly.”

“And I didn’t?” Chanyeol asks, appalled, and then quickly waves it away. “Okay, never mind, we can argue about this later. You can turn off the power?”

Sehun hums, looking at the fence thoughtfully. “It’d take me a long, long time to get access to the system. Longer than we need. So if we want to do this, you’d need to get me a computer that already _has_ access.” 

Chanyeol looks around wildly, then spots the little building at the corner of the fenced-in area, three stories high but probably only one room wide. “You think there’d be something in there?”

“That’s a watchtower,” Minseok says. “Well, essentially, that’s what it’s used for. Guards go in and out to report back to HQ after their rounds.” Chanyeol keeps looking at him. “Yeah, there should be something in there that’s hooked up to the main system. But it won’t be easy to get in.”

“Is anything easy?” Chanyeol asks, and doesn’t even wait for the answer. “Alright, so say we can get Sehun in there long enough to shut off the power. How do we get Jongin and Kyungsoo _out_ , into the...what is it, anyway? A rec yard?”

“Technically, yeah. Not that I’ve ever seen anyone in it.” Minseok shrugs. “They need to have it there, though, by law or whatever. Make it look like they’re less cruel than they are. Plus, if the station catches fire or something, they need to have a way to get people _out_ without letting them get _away._ ” He smirks. “I may have had a hand in making that necessary.” 

Chanyeol thinks about that for a moment, then says, “Fire, huh?”

Minseok lifts his eyebrows at him. “You’d have to start a real, actual fire. They’re not gonna be fooled by a false alarm.”

“You still have that flamethrower I traded you, don’t you?” Chanyeol says with a grin that 100% does not reflect what he’s feeling inside—namely, crippling fear and doubt and panic. 

“There’s no fucking way you’ll be able to sneak that thing inside a government building,” Minseok says flatly. “That being said, you won’t be able to get inside at all, wearing that getup.” He gestures towards Chanyeol’s entire body. “You’re packing enough heat to take down the whole station.”

“Isn’t that the point?” Chanyeol says, frowning. 

“You think they don’t anticipate that kinda stuff? _Oh, yeah, let’s let in this guy with all the blaster guns, he’s probably harmless._ ” 

Chanyeol huffs. “So what am I supposed to do?”

“Get a new outfit,” Minseok says simply. “Lose the artillery.”

“How am I supposed to start a fire, then?”

Minseok smiles wickedly. “Luckily for you, when Luhan was working for me, he wasn’t just gaining information about _us_. He was also giving away information about himself.”

 

It takes hours to work out the kinks, to figure out a timeline, to get everything together. Chanyeol makes another trip to the markets to get some last-minute supplies—both new clothes, since Minseok insists he needs them, and anything else he might need for the next leg of his trip, considering he’s probably going to have to get the hell out of dodge after pulling this stunt. He, Minseok and Sehun write up a plan of attack, they scribble all over a hastily-sketched blueprint of the station and the surrounding area, they go through the plan over and over to make sure they’ll all be in the right place at the right time. Everything is going to have to be fast, as fast as possible, to make sure they have time to get everyone out, including themselves. It’s timed down to the minute, and Chanyeol is scared stiff. 

Minseok leaves around 6:00pm, saying he needs to round up some help for his part in the action. After that it’s just Chanyeol and Sehun, and Chanyeol gets increasingly nervous. It’s much easier to feel halfway confident when one of you sounds like he knows what he’s doing. In-game Sehun is a troublemaker, sure, he’s a gutsy, brilliant street-kid that robs people for a living, but the Sehun in front of Chanyeol is scared and lost, just like him. That makes the whole thing a little more huge and terrifying. 

They’re both shaking by the time they have to get ready for the actual attack. Chanyeol changes into his civilian clothing—plain black trousers and a loose grey shirt, the cheapest thing he could find—and chatters about nothing, and Sehun laughs nervously at things that aren’t even necessarily supposed to be funny, and it’s so incredibly nerve-wracking that Chanyeol thinks he’s going to throw up. He knows that, by video game laws, this should go off without a hitch, because he’s essentially figured out the way to do it. The hardest part in games is always figuring out _how_ to do things, not the actual _doing_ of the things. At least, that’s what he’s telling himself, because he thinks he’s on the verge of a panic attack.

The watch on Chanyeol’s wrist—gifted by Minseok, because Chanyeol is _seriously_ low on funds—beeps to let him know it’s 10 minutes to go-time. Chanyeol had really wanted to go the whole in-ear communication device route, but Minseok had insisted they wouldn’t get through scans in the station, so they’re stuck with staying on a precise schedule. Nine minutes to go. 

Chanyeol pulls his blaster gun off the belt on top of his pile of armour, stashed away behind a dumpster in an alleyway near the station. “ _Draw the first guard as far away from the station as you can before you kill him,_ ” Minseok had told him. “ _That way, the distress signals will direct the rest there, rather than straight to wherever you are. They always fall for it; I’ve done it tons of times._ ”

Chanyeol takes slow, deep breaths as he waits, feeling naked without his armour on. His defense must be way down without it, which means he’ll lose HP much faster than usual. That’s scary, too. He remembers the midnight SCAB attack in the army camp before the river, and he doesn’t wish to relive it. He only has one 50% HP booster in his pocket, and if he ends up needing more than that, he’s screwed. 

His watch beeps again, and without taking the time to think this through, Chanyeol leaps into action. 

Drawing a guard away from the fenceline of the station’s rec yard is easier than expected. Chanyeol doesn’t even get shot as he runs full-tilt through the city streets, although he hears things getting hit on either side of him as he ducks and weaves. Maybe his stealth is better than he thought. 

He runs until he gets to an alleyway they’d scouted out ahead of time—it takes almost exactly two minutes to get there. He slips inside, and the R-Guard follows, blaster up and firing. Chanyeol ducks behind a barricade they’d set up and fires around it, managing to avoid all but two blasts that stop Chanyeol’s heart momentarily. He powers through the pain of them—he’s gotten very good at that recently—and manages to kill the R-Guard in a minute flat. Chanyeol takes a deep breath, recovering, then drags the guard behind his barricade and divests it of its uniform and, more importantly, its key card. 

He returns to the spot where Sehun is waiting for him as quickly as possible, passing him the uniform, key card, and the guard’s blaster. The younger boy changes into the uniform swiftly, his hands shaking visibly. “Shoot anything that tries to kill you,” Chanyeol says, throat thick. “Insist on holding down the fort if everyone else leaves to launch a counterattack. Lock yourself into a room with a computer and refuse to come out.”

“I know,” Sehun says, but his voice is uneven. 

“We’re going to get them out,” Chanyeol tells him, and then, on instinct, pulls the younger boy in for a brief, tight hug. Sehun inhales a shuddering breath, then nods and pulls away. 

“Alright. Here I go.” And Sehun pulls on the R-Guard helmet and turns, one hand on the blaster strapped to his hip as he jogs away, towards the watchtower. 

Chanyeol watches him go for a few moments, then snaps back to attention and checks his watch. He needs to give Sehun some time to set up and work his magic, but he feels like he’s vibrating out of his skin with nerves as he waits for the minutes to tick by. It’s excruciating, and gives him way too much time to think about what could all go wrong. He tries to think about other things instead. How important this mission is. He needs to get Kyungsoo back. He _needs_ Kyungsoo. Chanyeol is hopeless without him, he _needs_ him, he can’t even _imagine_ doing this without him. And not even just because Chanyeol is a terrible hero. He just needs Kyungsoo with him. He’s only been gone a few hours, and Chanyeol misses him in a way that’s nearly painful. He feels Kyungsoo’s absence on a physical level. Like a piece of his heart has been ripped away.

God. Chanyeol loves him. 

Finally, it’s time, and Chanyeol bolts out of their hiding place, his own blaster still clutched tightly in his hands. He careens through the streets, hoping he doesn’t look too suspicious, and drops his gun just around the corner of the building. Then he climbs straight up the stairs to the station and finds himself face-to-face with the guards that protect the doors. He gulps. 

“What’s your business here?” the guard on the right asks briskly. 

Chanyeol glances down at his list of speech options, but he’d already decided what to say beforehand. “I was hoping to get a look into your holding cell,” he says, cringing when his voice wobbles. “I was robbed yesterday and I think you might have apprehended the kid who did it.”

The guards pause, then wave him through. “You’ll be scanned to ensure you have no weapons on you before proceeding into the station,” the one of the left tells him. 

“Of course,” Chanyeol says as he passes through the door and into a front entrance containing a machine like the ones at the airport and another guard who pats him down. Of course, they find nothing. They scan his ID card, too, and Chanyeol prays really hard that it’s corrupted the way Kyungsoo said it was, way back on Chanyeol’s first day. 

After that, he makes it into the station, which is filled with desks and a few cubicles, as well as several doors to offices. He’s ushered through to one of these offices, and inside sits a familiar pink-haired man. 

“Welcome,” says the man as Chanyeol steps through the door. “I’m Luhan, this station’s commanding officer. What can I help you with?”

Chanyeol rattles off the same excuse a second time, and this time he’s infinitely more nervous, because this guy is real, and Chanyeol no longer has speech options, which means there’s a lot more room for him to mess up. Luhan looks at him evenly, his face giving away nothing but vague contempt, and Chanyeol fights hard not to hate him. He knows Luhan didn’t choose this role, just as none of the others did. He probably, on some level, even knows that he’s on the _wrong_ side, which is something the majority of the others stuck in this game don’t have to worry about. It must be hard. 

But none of that shows on his face, and he merely gives a fake smile when Chanyeol finishes his request. “We did arrest a couple of young men today,” he says smoothly. “Perhaps one of them is the one who robbed you yesterday, and you’ll be able to give us a testament. If you’ll just wait here for a moment, I’ll go get the key for the holding cells, and I’ll take you to take a look.” He stands and walks out of the room, casting Chanyeol several glances as he goes. 

As soon as he’s out of the room, Chanyeol launches into motion. He swings around to the other side of Luhan’s heavy metal desk and starts pulling out drawers frantically, digging through them. “ _Luhan’s character’s a heavy smoker,_ ” Minseok had told him. “ _He’ll have a lighter in his desk, because he has backups everywhere. Slip one into your pocket once you’re inside; he won’t notice it’s missing until it’s too late_.” 

He finds what looks like a Zippo lighter in the second drawer on the left, and he stuffs it into his pocket, closes all the drawers, and makes it back around to the other side of the desk just in time for Luhan to return, key card dangling from his fingers. He raises his eyebrows at Chanyeol’s flustered state, but says nothing other than, “It’s through here, follow me.”

Luhan leads the way through several locked doors, coming out into a corridor that leads past a row of cells. Each cell has bars in front of it, but they’re blue and glowing, like Chanyeol’s sword. Chanyeol reaches out to touch one wonderingly, distracted. 

“Impenetrable,” Luhan tells him, catching him in the act as he turns and smiles. “Impossible to break through these babies.”

 _Good thing that’s not what we were planning on doing,_ Chanyeol thinks, but wisely keeps his mouth clamped shut. 

They walk slowly down the corridor, past a couple empty cells, then a few occupied ones, but Chanyeol doesn’t recognize any of the people inside them at first. A woman in ripped clothing who raves at them as they walk by, an emaciated man who sulks in the corner of his cell and doesn’t even glance at them, a group of five burly men and women who look like they’re part of a biker gang. Then, finally, in the last cell, two familiar faces. 

“That the kid?” Luhan asks, gesturing towards Jongin at the back. 

Kyungsoo’s head snaps up from where he’s sitting on the floor, and his eyes go so wide Chanyeol almost laughs. Biting his tongue, Chanyeol forces himself not to stare at him and instead pretends to inspect an equally-shocked Jongin closely. “Hmm,” he says, and risks a peek at his watch. Fuck, he still has another two minutes to kill. Slowly, he squints at Jongin again, then says, “No...I don’t think so. The kid from yesterday had rainbow-coloured hair. You figure he could have changed it between then and now?”

Luhan shrugs. “Could happen. People these days are constantly changing their hairstyles. Especially when they don’t want to be recognized.” He peers at Jongin as well. “Does his face look familiar? If it is, I could probably still charge him.”

“He was wearing a mask,” Chanyeol says, drawing out his words, trying to make the conversation last longer. “But he does look a little familiar.” 

Kyungsoo is still staring at Chanyeol when he risks another glance at him, like Chanyeol is the _last_ thing he expected to see today, which, really? Why is this so shocking? 

“Whereabout did the robbery take place?” Luhan asks. “We could go through the footage of the area from the security cams, we might have caught him on tape. Electronic facial recognition is pretty amazing these days.” 

Shit, fuck. Chanyeol can’t leave this area; not yet. “No, no,” he says quickly. “Now that I’m looking at him, this kid looks taller than the one from yesterday. And his eyes are different.”

“Hmm,” says Luhan, looking disappointed. “Well, we’re still doing background checks on these two, so maybe we’ll find something on them.”

Chanyeol really, _really_ wishes he had some speech options right now. Luhan looks like he’s about to show him out, and Chanyeol still needs to stick around for another minute. He scrambles mentally, then blurts, “Dude, you’re real, right?” 

It’s a risk—he has no idea how someone on the _opposing side_ will react to the question—but Luhan just looks surprised. “Yeah, I am,” he murmurs, peering at Chanyeol as if he’s seeing him in a new light. Chanyeol wonders how much he knows, if Luhan knows Chanyeol is preparing to break someone out of his station right now, if Luhan knows what Chanyeol is. He wonders if Luhan is willfully blind, for the sake of his role in the game, or if he honestly knows nothing. Has he ever even interacted with a hero before? Chanyeol hadn’t thought to ask. 

“I’m Chanyeol,” he says now, swallowing hard. “How long have you been here?”

Luhan blinks, like no one has ever asked him that before. “I don’t know,” he says. “I got here in December. 2018.” 

“It was May when I got pulled in,” Chanyeol says. “So six months.” 

“Oh. That— I’m not sure if that seems like too much or too little.” Luhan chews on his lip. “Have you...have you met my friend? I got pulled in with him.”

Chanyeol gulps, glancing at Kyungsoo and Jongin briefly. They both look equally panicked. “I, uh. What does he look like?” he asks, stalling. 

Luhan smiles slightly. “A little shorter than me. Stronger, though. He—his hair is brown in real life, but in here it’s purple.”

“What is it with the anime hair colours?” Chanyeol asks, shaking his head. “It’s ridiculous.”

Luhan huffs out a soft laugh. “Agreed,” he says, gesturing to his own hair. “Have you met him, though? His name is Minseok.” His voice cracks slightly on the name. 

Chanyeol clenches his teeth, unsure if he should lie or— 

A loud crash saves him from answering at all, and all of them jump in surprise. Luhan’s head whips around, and another blast sounds, like someone’s firing cannons at the station. That’s probably not too far off. 

“Captain!” a voice shouts, and an officer sticks her head through the door at the end of the hall. “There’s trouble out front, we need you out there giving orders.”

“One moment, officer, I just need to—” He glances at Chanyeol, obviously wanting to escort him out.

“It’s Minseok, Captain. And he’s brought some friends.”

Luhan swears under his breath, and there’s a third crash. “Stay here,” he says, and bolts down the hall, hand on his blaster gun. 

“Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo says urgently, the moment he’s gone. “What are you doing here?”

Chanyeol is stepping closer to the cell in an instant, wanting to reach through the bars to grab him. “I’m busting you out of here,” he says, and that would be a much cooler line if he wasn’t so terrified he could puke. “Did you think I would just leave you?”

“Yes,” Kyungsoo says, and it’s so blunt that Chanyeol almost takes a step back. 

“Well, I didn’t,” Chanyeol says. “Listen, Minseok’s out front causing a diversion, but I only have a few seconds to tell you the plan. I have to go start a fire, and when the alarm goes off, a door at the back of your cells will open, and you’ll be let out into the rec yard. There’s a watchtower at the back, and guards around the perimeter. We’re hoping all of them will abandon post to help out with the Minseok diversion, but that probably won’t happen. Go straight to the corner on the opposite side as the tower. I’ll meet you on the other side there. Sehun is in the tower, turning off the power. He won’t be able to keep it down for long, so we’ll have to hurry. There’s gonna be a five-minute window between the alarm and the power turning back on, so we have to get you up and over before it turns back on. Okay?” 

Kyungsoo stares at him from the other side of the cell bars. “I can’t believe you came back for me.”

Chanyeol grins, heart pounding with fear but also an achingly enormous amount of feelings. “I have to go now,” he says, crowding closer to the cell and reaching through the bars on impulse to thread his fingers through Kyungsoo’s wild hair, as much to comfort himself as to reassure Kyungsoo. “I’ll see you on the flipside, okay? Trust me.” He hears a series of shots fire, and his heart beats even more frantically, and before he can stop himself, he’s saying, “I love you.”

Kyungsoo jolts like he’s been shocked, and before Chanyeol can apologize or run away, he reaches out to hook a hand around Chanyeol’s neck and pulls him closer. Chanyeol’s expecting Kyungsoo to hit him, honestly, or maybe shake him. He’s absolutely _not_ expecting Kyungsoo to kiss him. 

It’s almost too quick to register it, but Kyungsoo’s presses their lips together hard before pulling away with a gasp. He looks as surprised as Chanyeol feels. “Oh my god.”

Chanyeol stares at him, his breath stuck in his lungs. His heart was already pounding before, but now his whole body is warm, and his stomach is flipping in a way that’s much more pleasant. “Was that part of the game?” he asks, suddenly terrified. 

Kyungsoo laughs, sharp and overwhelmed. “No,” he says. “I’m just an idiot.”

“No you’re not,” Chanyeol says, sliding the hand in Kyungsoo’s hair to the back of his head and pulling him in for another kiss, just as brief but more intentional this time. It’s the answer Chanyeol doesn’t have time to verbalize right now. “I really need to go,” he whispers, pulling back. 

“You’re right, Kyungsoo,” Jongin says from behind Kyungsoo, watching them intently. “He _is_ more attractive without his helmet on.” 

Chanyeol laughs, then rips himself away from them. “I’ll see you in a few minutes,” he says, then turns away to run down the hall. 

He’s still half-thinking about the feeling of Kyungsoo’s lips against his own as he careens around a corner, through a set of doors, into a room he’d spotted earlier. “ _Find any storage room, there’ll be oil inside. Over half the employees there are robotic; they need maintenance_ ,” Minseok had told him. 

He pulls open three doors before he finds one that’s a closet, stacked full of cleaning supplies, rope, old computer parts and, blessedly, oil cans alongside other tools. He lugs one out and yanks off the cap, then looks around briefly before splashing oil around everywhere as he walks backwards towards the door that leads into the main office. The can is small, but the oil will burn long enough to set off an alarm, even if nothing else catches. He pulls out his lighter, snaps it open, and flicks the wheel to produce a tiny flame. He’s already out of the room by the time it hits the oily floor and sets the whole place ablaze. 

The alarm starts wailing a second later, and it takes all of Chanyeol’s willpower to walk out of the station calmly, rather than take off running like the criminal he is. All of the guards that were previously stationed in front of the doors and in the front room are now gone, and Chanyeol can hear gunshots ricocheting off walls outside. 

When he makes it out, though, he encounters a tense scene. Luhan is standing at the foot of the station’s stairs, blaster raised, chest heaving, and across the street from him stands Minseok, mirroring his posture. Chanyeol looks between them, and he can’t decide who looks more horrified and conflicted. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, Minseok,” Luhan says, voice choked. “You know I don’t want to.”

Minseok shakes his head. “Luhan, don’t.”

Luhan’s hands are visibly shaking. “I can’t— I have to—”

There’s a sharp _crack_ , and for a moment Chanyeol thinks Minseok’s been hit, but then Luhan goes down, falling into a heap. “Chanyeol, _go_ ,” Minseok shouts across the street, and Chanyeol starts running. 

He only just remembers to collect his blaster gun from where he’d stashed it before going into the station, and then he dashes around the building at top speed, heading straight for the the corner he’d told Kyungsoo and Jongin to meet him at. He only meets one guard on the way there, and he takes it down in thirty seconds, getting hit three times in the process. His HP should still be fine, even if his entire body is aching from the hits, and he keeps running, gasping for breath. 

Relief rushes through him when he spots Kyungsoo and Jongin waiting for him on the other side of the fence. “Hurry,” he says, checking his watch. “We have two minutes.”

Kyungsoo stares at him, like he’s waiting. 

“What? What’s wrong?” Chanyeol asks. 

“Chanyeol, this fence is eight feet high. Don’t you have a rope?”

Chanyeol freezes. Shit. _Shit._ The rope. He was supposed to— There was a rope in the supply closet— “ _Shit,_ ” he breathes. 

Kyungsoo closes his eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply, and then he laces his fingers together and stoops. “Jongin. I’m gonna boost you.”

“What?” Jongin yelps, eyes wide. 

“I’m gonna boost you up. Grab onto the top and climb over. _Now._ ” 

He doesn’t let Jongin hesitate. A moment later, the younger boy’s fingers are scrabbling at the top of the fence, snagging on barbed wire, and he drags himself over bodily. Lines of red blood well up where the barbs catch his skin, but he tumbles over, and Chanyeol half-catches him as he falls. As soon as it’s clear that he’s okay, he looks at Kyungsoo with wide eyes. 

Kyungsoo isn’t looking at him, though. He eyes the fence, backs up several meters, takes a deep breath, then runs forward. He jumps at the last moment, launching himself towards the top of the fence, and while he falls short by almost a foot, he curls his fingers into the chain links, toes scrabbling for a hold before he hauls himself up with his arms alone. He catches hold of the top bar and pulls himself up, and Chanyeol holds his breath as Kyungsoo swings a leg over, under the first line of barbed wire. The gap is small, but Kyungsoo obviously doesn’t care, because he squirms and yanks and shoves until he, too, is falling down the other side. Chanyeol barely manages to catch him. There’s not a speck of blood on him. 

Kyungsoo stands up on his own, brushing himself off like he didn’t just do something that should have been basically impossible. “And that, my friends, is called a game glitch.” 

Chanyeol has his arms around him in an instant. “You’re okay,” he whispers into the top of Kyungsoo’s head, holding him so tightly he thinks it _has_ to hurt, game rules be damned. 

Kyungsoo just hugs him back. “I’m okay. I’m fine. We’re all okay.”

Sehun comes exploding out of the watchtower a moment later, tugging his helmet off his head as he sprints towards them and sweeps Jongin into a similarly crushing hug. Chanyeol thinks they’re both crying, but he’s not going to say anything, not when he’s surreptitiously wiping his own tears on Kyungsoo’s hair. 

“We need to go,” Kyungsoo says, loosening his hold. “This can’t be safe.”

“Right,” Chanyeol says, finally forcing himself to let go, although he snatches up Kyungsoo’s hand and laces their fingers together firmly. For the first time, Kyungsoo lets him. “Let’s go.”


	19. Chapter 19

Seeing Minseok sit on the floor of his hideout with one arm wrapped around Sehun’s shoulders and the other around Jongin’s would be a lot more heartwarming if Minseok didn’t look absolutely shattered, eyes wet and red. “I shot him,” he whispers. “I didn’t want to but I _had_ to and...I _shot_ him.”

“He’s not dead,” Sehun tells him gently, huddled against him with one hand still linked with Jongin’s. “Luhan’s not dead. He’s okay, you only stunned him.”

“But I _wanted_ to kill him. I was so...so angry at him.” He slumps back against the wall, dragging the younger boys with him so that they’re half lying down. 

Kyungsoo pads over, barefoot, to drop a blanket across the three of them. “You should all get some rest,” he says softly. “It’s been a stressful day.”

It’s only 8:00, but Chanyeol would certainly agree. He figures the stress has been worse on the younger boys, who haven’t had to deal with so much shooting and fighting in the past, but even Chanyeol feels like passing out after today’s events. Instead, he shifts over and pats the floor beside him, looking up at Kyungsoo, and his guide smiles slightly as he lowers himself to sit next to him. 

“You okay?” Chanyeol asks quietly, feeling the tenseness of Kyungsoo’s shoulder against his. His own heart pounds, but he tries to ignore it. 

Kyungsoo nods, pulling another blanket to cover both of them. He watches as Minseok murmurs with Jongin and Sehun, their eyes sad but their lips fighting to smile, and then he says, “Today was...weird.”

Chanyeol’s heart falters, and he feels his stomach drop through the floor. “I—”

“I’ve been in that position before,” Kyungsoo says, cutting him off. “In that cell, with Jongin. My only other hero to make it this far did the same thing, had me show Sehun my wristband, and we got arrested the same way. But that hero didn’t come to get me.”

“He just...left you?” Chanyeol asks, shocked. That hadn’t even been an _option_ for him. He hadn’t even _considered_ it. 

Kyungsoo nods, not looking at him. “The game reset a while later, so he obviously didn’t make it much farther. And I was back in Hath, waiting for the next hero. I was just happy I didn’t have to see him die.”

“I would never have left you,” Chanyeol tells him earnestly. “Of _course_ I came back to get you.”

“It was probably a stupid move,” Kyungsoo says, and the corner of his mouth quirks up. “It was dangerous.”

“I barely lost any HP!” Chanyeol protests, sniffing. “And anyway, obviously the other guy didn’t get very far without you.”

Kyungsoo chuckles, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you broke me out of prison.”

“You didn’t see Sehun’s puppy eyes,” Chanyeol says. Then he adds, “You would have done the same for me.”

Kyungsoo sighs, slumping against his side and resting his head on Chanyeol’s shoulder. “Yeah,” he whispers. 

Chanyeol turns to look at him, then ducks his head quickly to press a kiss to his cheek, just under his eye. Kyungsoo doesn’t draw away, instead letting out a slow breath and closing his eyes as he relaxes bit by bit. Chanyeol smiles and tucks an arm around his waist, pulling him in closer. 

It’s quiet for a few minutes, and Chanyeol thinks Minseok and the boys have fallen asleep in their little puppy pile on the other side of the room. Almost by accident, he asks, “Did you mean it?”

“Hmm?” Kyungsoo asks, sounding drowsy. 

“The kiss,” Chanyeol says, swallowing with difficulty. “I mean. I don’t want to—to jump to conclusions or anything, you know? And if it was just the result of...I don’t know, knight in shining armour syndrome, or something, you really need to tell me.”

Kyungsoo gives a soft laugh, and Chanyeol is so nervous that he kind of wants to snap at him for that. But then Kyungsoo reaches out to take his hand, pressing their palms together, and says, “Look at these stats, buddy.”

Chanyeol turns to look, and is shocked when he sees them flash in white writing above Kyungsoo’s shoulder. _Affinity: 140._ “Oh my god.”

Kyungsoo’s smile is embarrassed now, his eyes on the floor and his cheeks pink. “At least yours are the same.”

Chanyeol looks at them, then shakes his head. “No way. That’s not possible.”

“How so?” Kyungsoo challenges, brows furrowing. 

“I can still level up my affinity? I don’t think so. I’m not buying it. There’s no way I could possibly like you more.”

Kyungsoo snorts, knocking their shoulders together. “You’re even worse than I thought.”

Chanyeol grins, leaning in to nudge his nose against Kyungsoo’s temple affectionately. “You like me _soooooo much._ ” 

Kyungsoo hums, but it’s not denial. 

It’s silent for a few beats, and then Chanyeol says, “You pulled away, though. Last night, when I...whatever it was I did.”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “I was a mess last night,” he admits. “I just...I _knew_ that this was going to happen today, since it’s happened this way before. And I didn’t think I’d see you again after that. You can’t blame me for being like, _no, I’m not going to go for it, I’m getting arrested tomorrow._ ” 

“Well...okay,” Chanyeol concedes. “That makes me feel a little better about being rejected.”

Kyungsoo shoots him a small smile, but then he says, “I’m still not sure about this whole thing though.”

Chanyeol’s heart stutters again, and this would be a _really_ bad time for it to go on him. “Why?” he asks, holding tighter to Kyungsoo’s hand, unwilling to let it go. 

“Seriously?” Kyungsoo gives a sharp laugh. “We’re in a _video game_ , Chanyeol. You understand that, don’t you? Does that strike you as a great time to start up romances? I have watched twenty-seven other heroes die before you. Not a single one of them made it much farther than here.”

Chanyeol swallows hard. He can’t even argue with that, because it’s all true. He already _knows_ this is the absolute worst time to be falling in love with people (and it’s pretty obvious that that’s what’s happening here). He knows that this is dangerous, like falling in love with someone with cancer. It could go so badly from here, for _either_ of them. Kyungsoo could lose Chanyeol, if he dies in this game. And even if Chanyeol _doesn’t_ die, even if he _wins_ , there’s no way of knowing what will happen after that, if they’ll get out, or even if Chanyeol does, who knows if Kyungsoo will too? But…

But. 

“It’s not like I can just stop myself from feeling like this, though,” Chanyeol says, carefully, like he’s treading on thin ice. “And I don’t think you can, either.”

Kyungsoo sighs and doesn’t deny it. 

“So what else are we supposed to do? Just ignore it? That sounds like a form of torture all on its own.”

He expects Kyungsoo to argue, to put up a fight, but he just slumps further into Chanyeol’s side and mumbles, “I try not to get attached to heroes. They always die. This is a terrible idea, I wasn’t going to _say_ anything.”

Chanyeol squeezes his hand and smiles slightly. “Technically, you haven’t said anything yet.”

“True.” Kyungsoo sighs again. “I’ve always been better at showing than telling.”

“Hmm, well, I never stop talking, so that evens out,” Chanyeol says, nudging at his shoulder. “You can keep on showing me, if you’d like.”

It pulls a smile out of Kyungsoo, a real one, even if it’s small. He sits up to look at Chanyeol, pulling his knees to his chest to rest his cheek on them. “I really like you way too much,” he says, quietly, like it’s a secret. 

Chanyeol laughs, squeezing his hand again as his heart flutters. “Are you gonna kiss me again or what?” 

Kyungsoo blinks at him for a few moments, and then he lurches towards him to kiss him hard on the mouth, quick and to the point. Chanyeol startles back, then hurries to get a hand into Kyungsoo’s hair to hold him in place, returning the kiss with fervour. Kyungsoo’s teeth drag slowly over Chanyeol’s lip, making him shudder, and Chanyeol’s fingers curl into his hair, pulling him back just enough that Chanyeol can tilt his head and press back in, clumsily enthusiastic. Kyungsoo’s breath hitches against his mouth, and Chanyeol sucks on his lower lip, hand sliding up Kyungsoo’s arm to grip his shoulder, desperate to get closer, kiss deeper. 

It turns soft and lingering after a moment, though, warm and gentle and lovely, and Chanyeol has to stop himself from making a deeply contented sound. It’s been _years_ since he’s kissed anyone like this, since his college boyfriend, and Chanyeol had forgotten what it feels like to kiss someone you like _so much_. It’s like his first kiss all over again, a little tentative but so sweet, so full of emotion. 

They pull back slowly, both smiling, and then a muffled voice says, “We’re right here, you know.”

Chanyeol laughs, and Kyungsoo goes red and mutters, “Go to sleep, Sehun.”

“I tried to get him to shut up,” Jongin offers. 

“Thank you Jonginnie, you’re my favourite child.”

“Everyone shut up and go to bed,” Minseok says, sounding like he really did just wake up. There’s some shuffling around, and everyone moves into more comfortable sleeping positions, including Chanyeol and Kyungsoo, sharing their pillow so the younger boys can share one. 

Chanyeol takes great pleasure in tangling their legs together, curling around Kyungsoo’s back and kissing the back of his head happily. “Who says you get to be the big spoon?” Kyungsoo asks, but he doesn’t actually complain, and Chanyeol slides an arm around his waist to hold him tightly. 

“Goodnight,” he whispers, closing his eyes and kissing his head again. 

“Goodnight,” Kyungsoo whispers back, and laces their fingers together under their blanket. 

 

Kyungsoo spends the following morning talking to Sehun and Jongin and Minseok about game rules, the stuff they can get away with as NPCs, anything and everything that might help them out in the long run. They listen with rapt attention, soaking up advice eagerly, and Chanyeol stands by and hopes Kyungsoo will never have to make that sad face again. 

Everyone is clearly hesitant to leave, especially because, Chanyeol assumes, once he and Kyungsoo leave, then Sehun and Jongin will have to part with Minseok as well. Kyungsoo seems to want to stick around, too, and spend more time with all three of them, but there’s no time. 

“If you’re going to take down the government, then I should probably get to work, in case a war breaks out. We need a stronger rebel base to hold up if that happens,” Minseok says, sighing. “I guess I can leave Luhan alone for a little while.”

“Jongin and I should probably find a new city to live in, to be honest,” Sehun says, frowning. “They know us by face here now. Maybe we’ll head west. You said your Vulture friends were going there, right?” 

Chanyeol nods vaguely. “Is there any advice anyone should be giving me? We’re heading to the capital next, right? Should somebody be preparing me for that?”

Minseok shakes his head. “Nobody’s been there, or anywhere near it. There are just hills between here and there, and they keep people away from the capital itself. I mean, for a capital city, it’s pretty empty from what I hear. Just the Dictator, MAISS, and a thousand robots and officers, as far as I know.” 

“And you don’t know _anything?_ ” Chanyeol presses. “You were in the original rebel movement. Don’t you have any insider information?” 

Minseok shakes his head. “Nothing I can tell you,” he says. “Kyungsoo’s parents would have been able to help, but, well. They obviously told him nothing.”

“And I still haven’t regained any of my memories of my father, except for a couple really vague dreams,” Chanyeol groans, waving towards his head like it’s the one at fault. “When are things going to start falling into place? I’m like, 80% of the way to my goal, and I barely even know anything about it. Government bad! Robots bad! Get rid of them!”

“Maybe if you had taken some of the side-quests,” Kyungsoo mutters. 

“Things’ll fall into place when they need to,” Minseok assures him. “You know they will.”

“Well, I sure as hell hope so,” Chanyeol sighs. “Anyway. Any gifts? No?”

“I can fix your ECD again,” Sehun says with an impish grin. 

Chanyeol narrows his eyes at him. “You’re a bad child. No dessert for you tonight.”

Sehun pouts exaggeratedly, and Jongin snorts with laughter. It’s nice to see them smiling. 

“I have one gift,” Minseok says eventually, unclipping something from his belt and handing it to Chanyeol. It’s a bit bigger than his ECD, with a much larger screen and a couple buttons on the side. “It’s a transmission device. Do not—I repeat _do not_ use it unless it is 100% an emergency. I want you to have it so that if everything goes to shit out here or something, I can get ahold of you, because in that case it won’t matter if the government can track every call. Use it to warn me if I’m about to die. I’ll do the same for you.”

Chanyeol nods solemnly, taking the device and clipping it onto his own belt. “Hopefully that won’t be necessary,” he says.

Minseok snorts. “Don’t count on it.” Then, straightening his shoulders, he says, “Sadly, that’s all I have for you. You’re on your own, hero.”

“Not my own,” Chanyeol says, catching Kyungsoo’s hand. He likes how well it fits in his own. “The Sam to my Frodo.”

“I don’t remember Sam and Frodo making out at night,” Sehun says cheekily. 

“You shut up, brat,” Chanyeol retorts, because he is a Mature Adult. Kyungsoo laughs. 

They leave a few minutes later, after hugs and reassuring words all around. “ _I know you can win,_ ” Minseok’s words reverberate around his skull for an hour afterwards. “ _So try your damn best._ ”

Chanyeol plans to.

 

Just as Minseok had told him, the area between Ancora and the Capital is miles of hilly green land, with small areas of brush and trees that Chanyeol avoids because they look like the perfect place for evil robots to lurk. As it is, the hills are suspiciously free of danger—Chanyeol runs into a couple of Level 1 and 2 SCABs, a Level 3 on one occasion, but that’s it. It’s unnerving. Shouldn’t he be getting pummeled by high-level bots to keep him away from his goal? Or at least to give him opportunities to up his stats? 

He asks Kyungsoo, but his guide only looks nervous and uncertain. “I’ve never made it to the hills before,” he says, looking around like he’s expecting to be attacked at any moment, too. “And I...I didn’t read this far in the walkthrough. I didn’t want to spoil the ending for myself.” He looks vaguely embarrassed. 

“Well, shit. What’s in your script? You still have that, don’t you?”

Kyungsoo nods, but he’s frowning. “You’d have to ask me the right questions to unlock most of the responses, but like...none of them are that informative. It’s been so long since I had zero experience with something in this game. I almost forgot what it’s like. I don’t like it.” 

Chanyeol sighs, but he starts with the question-asking nonetheless, swinging Kyungsoo's hand in his as he goes. He understands that his and Kyungsoo's relationship, if one can call it that, is complicated at best, and he's not getting all that much out of it apart from a little added physical contact and a little kissing here and there, but he still revels in having that much. Just...knowing that Kyungsoo feels the same way is enough to bring a smile to Chanyeol's face, even in the face of uncertainty and danger. They're both still unsure and hesitant, and Kyungsoo is quite clearly out of practice when it comes to romance, but it's nice not to be dancing around each other anymore. 

Chanyeol resolves to romance the _fuck_ out of him if (when?) (if) they ever get out of here together. There will be roses. There will be serenades. There will be so much goddamn snuggling that they will forget all about murderous robots and blaster guns.

A solid hour of questioning later, Chanyeol has uncovered a couple of facts about their current surroundings, but like Kyungsoo said, most of it isn't that helpful. He learns about the way these hills became temporary refuge after the new dictator kicked all of the residents out of the capital, and how even those people eventually got shoved further south, away from what used to be Paran's largest city. He learns about the violent methods used to do that shoving. He learns that the only real cities Chanyeol's been to—Hath, Murus and Ancora—are the government-funded ones, the cities with tight policing and through-the-roof restrictions. The other settlements, the ones created by the people rather than the government in the aftermath of the war, are even worse for wear, with extremely high poverty rates and more street kids than kids in homes. The people have to choose between freedom and protection, and isn't that just some Hobbesian shit? Chanyeol feels like they've regressed to the Enlightenment Era.

He doesn't really learn anything about the next step of their quest, though, and that grates on Chanyeol's nerves. He has no idea what he's going to be up against, no idea what he's going to have to _do_ , and he really does not like that.

Eventually, Chanyeol gives up on trying to wring information out of poor, patient Kyungsoo, and instead spends his time humming the Pokemon League theme song (from the original games, because Chanyeol is a child), and coming up with wild conspiracies about the government.

"Maybe your parents were really bad guys, double-crossing the rebels," he suggests pleasantly. "Like Luhan. Oh man, that'd be a plot twist, wouldn't it be? Maybe your parents _are_ the government. Maybe they didn't really die."

"I saw them die, Chanyeol," Kyungsoo says, rolling his eyes. "You saw the flashback. They were literally bleeding out on the kitchen floor."

"It's the future, Kyungsoo. They can probably fake that. Sherlock Holmes did it."

"Why would they kill my brother, then? That doesn't make any sense."

They take a short break to figure out how to scale a fence that says KEEP OUT - GOVERNMENT PROPERTY. It’s obviously more of a symbolic border than something to actually keep people out, because it doesn’t take long to find a section that’s easy to clamber over. Fuck you, Dictator. 

"Maybe he was in on it,” Chanyeol continues as soon as they’re over. “Maybe he wasn't really your brother. Or, well, he probably wasn't, right? Didn't Minseok say you're adopted?" Chanyeol is suddenly sidetracked. "Was your brother adopted, too? He didn't really look like you in the flashback, but, well, you're not the original character so I can't say much on that front. What did Minseok mean about your parents working hard to keep you, anyway? Were Child Protection Services after them? They probably would be, to be honest, considering they left you to infiltrate the government."

Kyungsoo snorts, shaking his head. "I honestly know nothing about that storyline. Your guess is as good as mine."

"Then speculate with me! It's a bonding activity. _Guess Kyungsoo's Origins._ We can play _Guess Chanyeol's Origins_ too. Who's my mother? Is she dead? Was she ever alive? Was I a surrogate baby? I have no memories of her. But that doesn't mean much, considering I have almost _no_ memories, other than my dying father saying _'Strike at the heart, not the head.'_ Gotta love a cryptic message. And who was my father, anyway? Why did he send me to take down the government on my own? Why was that his life mission? What made him, and me for that matter, qualified for this job? Was he some sort of samurai or something with special abilities that he passed on to me, and that I promptly forgot?" He pauses. "Am I magic?"

Kyungsoo gives him a dry look. "I don't think you're magic, Chanyeol."

"Maybe I'm a kick-ass mage and I just _forgot_ ," Chanyeol says. "Maybe I'm not even _human._ "

"Oh my god," Kyungsoo groans, but he's smiling.

"Hey! Maybe my sword is my magic wand. Or whatever. I already had it on me when I first woke up here, so it'd make sense that my dad gave it to me, right? Maybe it's a magical heirloom." Chanyeol takes it out and activates the blade, looking at it closely.

"You are the biggest idiot I have ever met."

"And the most lovable," Chanyeol says with a broad grin.

Kyungsoo elbows him, and Chanyeol happily plants a smacking kiss on his temple, laughing when the edges of his helmet around his visor bump against Kyungsoo's skull.

"What other clues have I gathered so far?" Chanyeol says a few minutes later as they climb a particularly tall hill. Bless his in-game physique, or whatever it is that stops Chanyeol's thighs from burning when he does a lot of exercise out here. "Is it possible that I've been getting clues without realizing that that's what they are? Maybe the fact that they used chemical warfare means something, or—" He stops short, freezing in place. "What's that?"

Beside him, Kyungsoo looks up from where he's been staring at the ground in front of his feet, and together they stare up at the large, dark shape that stands at the top of the hill. It doesn't look friendly. 

"I don't know," Kyungsoo says, and Chanyeol wonders if his guide’s heart is pounding as quickly as his own. "I honestly don't know, Chanyeol."

"Should I go back down? Should we go around?" Chanyeol looks around; there seems to be tall hills on either side of the one they're on now, and there are dark patches of brush between them, which Chanyeol doesn't want to go into if he doesn't have to. Still, it seems like a better choice than facing...whatever it is at the top of this hill. 

A moment later, it's clear that Chanyeol doesn't have a choice at all, because his legs are leading him up and up despite his increasing desire to retreat. "Oh my god," he says, clinging to Kyungsoo's hand and clutching his sword with the other. "Is this a cutscene? Am I being forced into a fight? Holy shit, is this a boss battle?"

"I don't know," Kyungsoo says, sounding panicked, and that _really_ does not help.

They make it to the crown of the hill, then freeze in place, independent of their will. The dark shape in front of them materializes at the same time, rising from a crouch to reveal...some sort of large, robotic person, over six feet tall and entirely covered in dark red armour. It looks kind of like a Transformer, on a very small scale, and it's toting a gun that makes Baekhyun's bazooka blaster look like a rusty old child's toy. Chanyeol’s heartrate rockets.

"I am the Sentinel," says Roboboss. "What business do you have this close to Solarium, our Capital?"

Chanyeol holds his breath, as if he might be able to slip by unnoticed if he doesn't make a sound. He still can't move his feet, though, so he forces his mouth to open and says, "You know what, actually, we were just leaving. Sorry for, uh, trespassing."

“ _Chanyeol,_ ” Kyungsoo hisses. 

“Well what am I supposed to say?” Chanyeol mutters back, not daring to take his eyes off of the Sentinel’s glowing red eyes. He’s fully prepared for it to fold itself into a Death Machine, or to start firing at them at any moment. 

It does neither. “You willfully passed into government territory, ignoring warnings. This act is punishable by death.”

“Ohhhh god,” Chanyeol breathes, letting go of Kyungsoo’s hand to curl it around the handle of his blaster. “I really, uh, don’t mean to cause any trouble, I’m—”

“What do you have to say for yourself, citizen?” the Sentinel demands. 

Chanyeol gulps and draws his blaster, ready to fire before the bot gets the upper hand, and prepares to fight. 

The front of the Sentinel’s helmet separates and slides back to reveal a face, and Chanyeol’s finger freezes on his trigger. 

“Oh my god. Huang Zitao?”

“Who?” Kyungsoo says, clearly lost. 

A frightfully young face stares back at them, brown eyes wide and scared under a thatch of bright turquoise hair. His throat bobs visibly. 

“Huang Zitao. Oh my god.” Chanyeol risks a glance at his guide. “He—he went to my high school. I mean, it was a couple years after I graduated, but I still heard about it, he was all over the papers. He’s a model, he moved to Korea with his family and got stalked a bunch, he—he can’t be older than 18.”

“Oh my god,” Kyungsoo says, and suddenly he looks horrified. “Chanyeol, he’s—”

“He’s real,” Chanyeol breathes, stomach rolling. “And I have to kill him.” 

“I’m sorry,” Zitao says, and his voice cracks. He lifts his gun, pointing it straight at Chanyeol. “I’m so sorry.”

“Zitao, don’t!” Chanyeol’s breath hitches. “Don’t, just— I don’t want to kill you.”

“You think I want to kill _you?_ ” Zitao asks, face crumpling. 

Chanyeol thinks he’s going to throw up. Until now, all of Chanyeol’s opponents have been robots, pure game data, not even _human._ But here, in front of him, is a real person, a real life that he’s going to have to take. An _innocent person_. Whatever Zitao’s in-game background is, it’s not his real life, and he doesn’t deserve to be in that position, he’s never done anything wrong. Chanyeol can’t kill him. “Zitao, please,” he says desperately. 

“Chanyeol, he can’t go against his script,” Kyungsoo tells him, one hand on Chanyeol’s elbow, like he’s trying to draw him away. As if Chanyeol could run if he wanted to. 

“That’s not my name here.” Zitao’s voice is raw.

“It’s your _real_ name,” Chanyeol says. “I know who you are. You’re not—you’re not this, Zitao.”

“How do you know?” Zitao asks. “How do I even know if this is real? I don’t know _what’s_ real.”

“This isn’t real,” Chanyeol says quickly. “You’re inside a video game. You understand that, don’t you?”

Zitao’s breathing is ragged, and Chanyeol can hear it all the way from where he stands, twenty feet away. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

“You’re in the same position as all of us,” Chanyeol says quickly, scared that if he takes too long to speak, Zitao will pull that trigger. “You haven’t seen another hero come through here, have you? You’re as new to this as I am.” When Zitao doesn’t respond, Chanyeol continues. “We’ve all gotten pulled in. A bunch of us. You’re in an NPC role, but I’m trying to get us all out. You need to let me through for me to do that. I need to beat the game.”

Zitao’s fingers tighten around his gun. “I can’t,” he grits. “I can’t, I— I can’t control what I do. This is a kill or be killed situation. I don’t want to kill you, but I don’t want to die.”

“I understand, Zitao. I really, really do. But listen, I know this isn’t you. I know this is the game.” 

“Shut up,” Zitao says, eyes red. “You don’t know anything about me.” 

“I know you’re not a villain. Zitao, you’re not a villain. This isn’t real. This is a game.” Chanyeol pulls in a deep breath, holds it, lets it out. He can’t afford to start hyperventilating now. 

Zitao is visibly shaking inside his suit of armour. “You can’t go against the game.” 

“Can’t you?” Chanyeol challenges, and it’s mostly desperate wishful thinking. 

“Not when you’re half game data,” Zitao says, shaking his head. “If this is really a game, then I’m half game data, right? I have so many memories. I’m half this person.” He gestures to himself, his armour, his gun. 

“Half,” Chanyeol agrees. “Only half. You’re half you, Zitao.” 

“What am I supposed to do?” Zitao sounds so lost, so scared, and Chanyeol doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what to do.

“Chanyeol, he can’t just _not follow the script_ ,” Kyungsoo says urgently. “That’s not how it works, you don’t understand, he doesn’t have a _choice._ ” 

“So am I supposed to let him just kill me? Neither of us wants to fight. Neither of us wants to die _or_ kill, Kyungsoo.”

“Kyungsoo?” Zitao freezes, eyes wide. 

Kyungsoo turns to stare at him. “What?”

“Kyungsoo.” Zitao gulps. “Brother.”

Chanyeol and his guide gape in tandem. “ _What?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY SORRY FOR UPLOADING CHAPTER 18 TWICE, IT WAS THE TRAIN WIFI'S FAULT. and i'm sorry for deleting your comments along with the second chapter 18, i'm very sad about it. i read them, and i loved them. thanks to the person who let me know about the mistake!! i love u. 
> 
> anyway, wow, fic.


	20. Chapter 20

“He’s not your brother,” Chanyeol tells Zitao, shaking his head. “Kyungsoo’s brother died. I saw it happen. Kind of.”

Zitao shakes his head as well, letting out a shuddering breath. “That wasn’t his brother. You’re really Kyungsoo, aren’t you? Father told me that’s what they named you. After they took you away.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Kyungsoo is clearly rattled, eyes wide. “My parents are dead. I _know_ they’re dead.” 

“Your new parents,” Zitao corrects him. “That’s so sad. I’m sorry for your loss.” 

“Who the hell are _you?_ ” Kyungsoo demands. “Why do you know who I am? What’s going on?”

“You don’t recognize me,” Zitao says, and it’s not a question. “Of course you don’t, they wiped your memory. And I didn’t even recognize you myself...they changed your face.”

“I don’t understand,” Kyungsoo says desperately. Chanyeol could say the same thing. 

Zitao takes several steps closer to them, his armour moving smoothly at the joints, and lowers his gun. Chanyeol still has to fight not to step back. “Kyungsoo,” Zitao says, eyes serious. “Did you know that before MAISS, there were two other prototypes?”

Now Kyungsoo looks completely bewildered. “Vaguely? I heard my parents mention it once. They were hoping to steal the second one.”

Zitao smiles slightly. “That’s me,” he says. “You were the first.”

“I’m— _what?_ ” 

“Seriously, what?” Chanyeol echoes, mind spinning. 

Zitao lowers his gun until its muzzle is pressed into the ground, and he leans on the butt. “Before MAISS, the first prototype for a master artificial intelligence system was half human, half robot. Don’t ask me how they did it, I’m no scientist, but they created this...android, I guess. It was breaking technology, mixing human DNA with a technology system, capable of inhuman things, hooked up electronically to a whole army of robots, but also capable of things most bots weren’t—emotion, personality, intuitive thought. But in the end, it wasn’t what the Black Party wanted. Prototype I was _too_ human, too unpredictable, too full of changeable human will. So they shut off his connections to the other bots, powered down the majority of his systems. Essentially, they took away the parts of him that made him a robot, and left a young boy in his place. A young boy that couldn’t feel pain, couldn’t bleed, but still had instinctive knowledge of this world.” He smiles. 

Kyungsoo gapes. “ _Me?_ I thought—I thought that stuff was just...game rules, or whatever. I’m a fucking robot?”

“Half robot,” Zitao corrects. “And so am I. Prototype II, slightly more robotic, though still with a good chunk of human DNA. But I was too easy to influence, apparently. Not good if you’re hoping to take over the country. So they trashed me, too.” He grins crookedly. “Eventually, they created MAISS, an artificial brain inside a big robotic body, incapable of human emotion and sympathy, but perfectly capable of strategic destruction and controlling hordes of robots. Exactly what they wanted. I got shunted to Sentinel duty, obviously.”

“But how the hell did I end up here?” Kyungsoo asks, pointing at himself. “And why don’t I remember any of this?”

Zitao chuckles. “Your parents worked for the Black Party, you knew that, right?”

“Of course. They were rebels, though.”

“They were,” Zitao agrees, and Chanyeol lets out a breath of relief. He’d been scared they actually _were_ the bad guys for a second there. “They had an in at the facility, though, and they knew about you. They knew you were just a kid, without all the power given to you by your technological systems. So they got you out, wiped your memory, tried their hardest to protect you.” Zitao smiles wistfully. “They wanted to get me, too, but before they could, well.” He shakes his head. 

Kyungsoo looks dazed. “I’m a robot,” he says. “My parents didn’t adopt me, they _stole_ me.”

“They loved you,” Zitao says. “They wanted to protect you.”

“ _That’s_ why I have no memories from earlier than thirteen. Oh my god. I always wondered why other NPCs did and I didn’t.” Kyungsoo lets out an overwhelmed laugh. “This explains so much.”

“So like,” Chanyeol cuts in. “This is all very revelational and everything. But this means you’re not going to kill us, right? You wouldn’t kill your brother, would you?”

Zitao blinks at him, then frowns thoughtfully. “You triggered an alternate scene by introducing Kyungsoo,” he says slowly. “Which triggered the human part of my DNA. And my weakness always _was_ my conscience.” He looks between Chanyeol and Kyungsoo. “I think you bypassed the fight scene.”

Chanyeol’s jaw drops. “Really?” he asks. “You’re serious? I don’t have to kill you?”

Zitao hums, like he’s receiving information as they speak. “No, I...I don’t think you do.” Relief spreads across his face, the same way it’s spreading through Chanyeol’s entire body. “I mean, you could still try it?”

“God, no, no thank you,” Chanyeol says, and he laughs just because this is so unbelievable. “I don’t even care if killing you would do something amazing for my stats. This is wonderful.”

“You’ve been kissing a robot,” Kyungsoo says helpfully. 

“You’ve been kissing?” Zitao asks, eyebrows arching. 

“Yes.” Chanyeol grins. “Dude, I am so happy about this. I don’t even care that I’m dating a robot. Nobody is dying on top of this hill. This is a miracle.”

“I wouldn’t call this _dating_ , exactly,” Kyungsoo says dryly. 

“Shut up. I am going to take you on the cutest fucking date someday.” Chanyeol can’t stop smiling. “You’re really not going to shoot me, right Zitao? Can I get that, like, in writing and notarized? I’d be pissed off if it turned out you were joking and going to shoot me as soon as I turn my back on you.”

Zitao laughs as well. “I’m not going to. I can’t believe you bypassed the fight scene.”

Chanyeol sucks in a deep, revitalizing breath and flips up his visor. He holsters his gun and holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you, by the way. I’m Chanyeol.”

Zitao grins broadly enough to split his face and takes it. “Zitao. It’s a pleasure. You know, now that I don’t think we have to fight to the death.”

“This is the most ridiculous thing that’s ever happened to me,” Kyungsoo says. “Besides being sucked into a video game for two years, of course.” 

Chanyeol slings an arm around his shoulders and pulls him in close. “Zitao, Kyungsoo. Does this make you my brother-in-law, Mr. Sentinel?” 

“Oh my god, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol kisses the top of his head and refuses to let anything ruin his moment of celebration. 

 

"So...any chance you'd be willing to part with that fantastic armour you've got there?" Chanyeol asks about half an hour later, after Kyungsoo has sat down with Zitao and talked him through a few New NPC Things. Kyungsoo obviously has a lot of experience with this, and it shows, because Zitao is considerably more relaxed after their talk.

The younger man smiles slightly. "I think you'd be allowed to take it if you killed me," he says with a shrug.

Chanyeol grimaces. "Yeah, no, not happening. Honestly, I don't even think that's a battle I could win. What are your stats, like 150 all around?"

"Only 140 for combat, 150 for defense, 50 for stealth. It's hard to be discreet in this getup." Zitao's smile is shy, the complete opposite of what you'd expect from a villain. He looks exactly like a kid who just broke down crying ten minutes ago because he has memories of killing hundreds of people.

"Yeah, I suppose it's not the most subtle fashion." Chanyeol sighs. "Too bad that I can't have it, though, I think I'd look pretty badass."

They're all sitting on the hilltop now, close enough that their knees are touching, and Chanyeol keeps his tone soft and relaxed, because this kid obviously does not need more stress in his life. Chanyeol knows that feeling well. He still feels like that, half the time.

"I can give you my blaster, though," Zitao says, hefting it where it sits across his lap. "It's kinda big, but it's really powerful. You can have it if you want."

Chanyeol gapes at him. "Are you kidding? That thing is like, a mega-weapon. It's like the legendary pokemon of weapons. I feel like I don't have enough gym badges to wield that thing."

Zitao laughs gently. "Really, take it. It's easy to use, although it doesn't fire as fast as smaller blasters. You kinda have to let it charge in between shots."

Chanyeol takes the weapon reverently when Zitao holds it out for him, marvelling at how light it is despite its size, running his fingers over the polished red exterior. It's even bigger than it looked in Zitao's hands, easily almost five feet long, with a muzzle three inches wide. Chanyeol stands up to settle the butt against his shoulder, flipping down his visor so the target appears, and he's not at all surprised when his combat jumps to 120 with this thing in his hands. It's a little bulky and awkward, but Chanyeol has no doubts concerning its power. "Dude," he breathes. "I could take out the whole government with this thing."

Zitao looks grim when Chanyeol sits back down, flipping his visor up again. "It's not brute force that you'll need to complete your mission, Chanyeol," he says seriously. "High stats will help, but you need to be smart, too."

Chanyeol blinks at him. "So I can't just burst in there, guns a-blazin, and hope for the best?"

"No," Zitao says. "That won't get you very far."

"Oh. Well...that's a little bit encouraging, in a way, because it means I won't have to rely on my questionable fighting skills to win. But at the same time, uh, yikes."

Zitao nods solemnly. "You'll need to keep your head."

Chanyeol twitches, because keeping his head is not something he's good at in stressful situations (look at all the panic attacks he's had in this game so far). Instead of saying that, though, he says, "You went from threatening to kill me for trespassing to giving me hints to overthrow the government really fast, you know."

That pulls another half-smile out of Zitao. "I skipped over my repentant, they-brainwashed-me-but-I've-broken-through-my-conditioning monologue. It seemed sort of unimportant, you know? But I can give it now, if you want. I think I have to, before you leave."

Chanyeol laughs, then gestures for him to go ahead, since there could be some important information in there. It's mostly just a sob story about Zitao being forced to do stuff through the robotic part of his wiring, killing anyone who tried to get into the capital until he was finally able to reclaim the human part of his identity through recognizing his brother, and it's a little over-dramatic and cliched, but it's still enough to make Zitao visibly upset. Chanyeol regrets asking.

"Things were different, before Prototype III," Zitao says, pressing his lips together and blinking hard. "The Dictator, he—I mean, he wasn't a _great person._ He was eager to dominate and wanted desperately to be in a position of power. You know? But he didn't have the power, or the _drive_ , to do anything that extreme before MAISS. Sure, he wanted to overthrow the government and take that position himself. But the whole...you know, killing people, and completely ruining lives without batting an eye, that only started after MAISS gave him that power. Suddenly, he had instant control of thousands of robots, all completely willing to do his bidding. The war started so soon after that. Things escalated so quickly. There was so much...so much killing, so much death. The rebels rose up, and the Black Party gave them absolutely no room for negotiation. They just...killed them all. Like they were bugs." 

Zitao closes his eyes, shudders. "Before the war, the Dictator cared about the people. Or at least, he said he did, and it seemed like it was true, because he had a lot of supporters because of that. He gave all these speeches on restoring the vitality of Paran, and working for the people, and stuff like that. But I guess he was really after the power, because as soon as he had that, everything fell apart. So many innocent people were killed, and those who weren't had no freedom. It is not the country they promised us. It is not the country Kyungsoo and I were made to help create."

Zitao’s eyes start welling up with tears again, and his shoulders start shaking. Kyungsoo reaches over to pat his back gently, and they sit in silence for a few moments. 

"So where are we supposed to sleep?" Chanyeol says when it’s clear that he’s done, eager to change the subject. "I mean, I know it's still early afternoon, but last I checked on the map, we weren't that close to the capital. We'll need to spend at least one night, won't we?"

Zitao nods, rubbing at his eyes. "There are a few places where you can stay."

"Great, where?"

"Remember when I told you earlier that people settled here before the government pushed them out?" Kyungsoo says. "There are a few ghost towns around here where you could camp out."

Chanyeol gets his map out and sets it up, and the three of them hunch over it, with Zitao pointing out where a couple old settlements are. There's one about two-thirds of the way between where they are now and where the capital is, heading north-west, and Zitao assures them that they should be able to make it there well before nightfall. 

Chanyeol wants to stay with him longer. He wants to talk to Zitao about who he is, so that he doesn't forget, and he wants to reassure Zitao that he's going to try his best to get them all out of here, and even if Chanyeol fails, one day someone will come along that will succeed. He wants to help Zitao understand what's going on, because he's clearly lost and scared and lonely.

But time is limited, and Chanyeol and Kyungsoo need to leave if they don't want to risk being caught out at night. Chanyeol's HP is still high, at 88%, but they still have a lot of ground to cover before dark, and that probably means more fights to win.

Zitao looks equally sad to see them go. "Good luck, Chanyeol," he says, holding tight to Chanyeol's hand with both of his own. "Thank you for...for talking to me, and for not killing me, and everything."

Chanyeol immediately pulls him into a hug, because the poor guy looks like he needs it. It's not very warm, considering they're both wearing hard, bulky armour, but it gets the message across. He wants to make promises, but he refuses to make any he can't keep. "You're extremely strong, Zitao," he tells him instead. "I thought that even before we got here. You're strong in real life, dealing with bullshit you shouldn't have to at your age, and you're strong here. Don't forget who you are, okay? And don't forget that you're not this person."

"I won't," Zitao whispers. 

"Take care," Chanyeol says, giving him his best encouraging smile, and then he turns around and starts trekking down the other side of the hill. 

"What he said," he hears Kyungsoo say as he gives Zitao his own hug behind him, and then he catches up with Chanyeol and walks with him. 

"That kid idolizes you already," Kyungsoo says a minute later, when Zitao's hill has faded into all the others behind them and they've stopped turning around to wave at his shrinking figure. 

"Me?" Chanyeol blinks at him, adjusting his new enormous blaster where it's slung across his back. "Why?"

Kyungsoo snorts. "Do you not realize what a heroic figure you strike? Look at you, all strapping and brave in your armour with all your weapons on your hip, ready to kill something at a moment's notice. You look amazing. Any kid would look up to that." 

Chanyeol doesn't know what to say for several moments. " _Me?_ " he repeats. "I—I almost have a meltdown anytime I have to kill something higher than a Level 3. I almost cried back there, thinking I'd have to fight Zitao. I'm a little baby."

Kyungsoo nudges him with his shoulder as they walk. "Listen to yourself. You take on packs of robots without batting an eye these days. You jump right into fights, like it's nothing."

"But it's _not_ nothing," Chanyeol insists. "And I _have_ to be like that. Or else I would die. I will gladly use any coping mechanism I can come up with just to make it through this."

"You don't think every hero is like that, on the inside? You think that doesn't make them anymore admirable and amazing?" Kyungsoo shakes his head. "And besides that, you're _human._ You talk to people. You make them feel better intuitively, because that's just what you _do._ You are the single most fucking charming and charismatic and _likable_ hero I have ever guided." He looks up at Chanyeol with a crooked grin. "You'd be crazy not to fall for that."

Chanyeol stares at him for a moment, shocked and speechless, and then he forces his mouth open and what comes out is, "You forgot to mention how tall and good-looking I am."

Kyungsoo laughs, catching his hand and squeezing. "Yes, very tall, very handsome. And knows it."

Chanyeol cracks a smile. "Is this the part where I shower _you_ with compliments?"

"No, no, that would seem cheap and forced. Save it for another time," Kyungsoo says, chuckling.

So Chanyeol does. He saves it all day, thinks about it as he mows down increasingly large and powerful groups of SCABs with Zitao's blaster and his trusty sword, gathers his thoughts as they move through the hills and try to keep their pace up all day. He thinks about it even as they talk about completely irrelevant shit, as they discuss different Final Fantasy games and compare Batmans, as Chanyeol sings lines of songs he thinks Kyungsoo would like.

They make it to the ghost town Zitao had pointed out to them an hour before nightfall and find a gutted skeleton of a house to spend the night in, and Chanyeol lets it all out. "I just, I like the way your eyes look when you smile," he says, lying on a threadbare mat on the floor with Kyungsoo curled beside him, facing him, their legs tangled together. Chanyeol leans in to kiss one delicate eyelid, feeling it flutter under his lips. "They get all squinty and sparkly and it's just, it's really nice."

"Is that the best you've got?" Kyungsoo teases, but his voice is a little unsteady. Chanyeol is reminded that Kyungsoo hasn't had anyone tell him this kind of stuff in years.

"I could write poems, literal poems about your voice, and your laugh, and the weird feelings in my chest when you smile at me," Chanyeol tells him. "You should hear the way my heart pounds. I get _butterflies_. It's gross."

Kyungsoo huffs out a laugh.

"I like the way you ground me when I'm freaking out. You always know exactly what to do," Chanyeol says softly, nudging his nose against a soft cheek.

"Trade secret," Kyungsoo whispers. "You learn how after dealing with a thousand panic attacks."

"But you're a natural. And I feel...I feel safe with you. Even though I know you can't protect me, I feel safe with you. I can trust you, and I can know that you'll always be on my side."

One of Kyungsoo's hands curls around the back of Chanyeol's neck, playing with the soft hair at his nape. "Always," he sighs.

"I'll always be on your side, too," Chanyeol tells him. "You can always trust me. I'm not going to leave you behind."

The hand tightens. "Chanyeol, you can't know—"

"I _won't_ ," Chanyeol insists. "Soo, I won't. Trust me." And he kisses Kyungsoo the way he's been wanting to for so long, kisses him until that's all either of them can think about, warm lips and the sharp edge of teeth and soft sighs and hands that curl in hair and into clothing and spread across smooth skin. Chanyeol ignores the dampness he feels on Kyungsoo's cheeks, and he falls a little bit harder.

 

"So." Chanyeol looks out at tall, foreboding black walls, stark against the horizon, and swallows compulsively. "You don't happen to know a rebel sympathizer on guard duty at _this_ wall, do you?"

Kyungsoo stands beside him, staring at the outline of the capital with a similar amount of trepidation. "No, I'm afraid not."

"Well, shit. How the _hell_ am I supposed to get in there? That place looks like a fortress. And I don't figure they'll just, you know, let me walk in through the front gate."

"No," Kyungsoo agrees. "They do _have_ a front gate. Only one. Maximum security. You have to have ID to get in and out."

Chanyeol scowls, then promptly brightens. "Wait, I have that one ID I found on the body in the Wastelands. The pilot's. He was from the Black Party, wasn't he? And he was a soldier. Could I use his ID to get through?" Chanyeol swings off his bag to reach for it, finding it buried underneath a pile of other crap.

But of course Kyungsoo has to stomp on his brilliant revelation immediately. "Technically, yeah, you could probably use that to get in," he says, looking like he's pulling this information from files he previously hadn't known about. Probably accurate. "But since that soldier's registered dead, you're going to set off all sorts of alarms, and you'll have the whole militia after you. So don't expect that to be a walk in the park."

Chanyeol sighs heavily. "Of course," he laments. "One does not simply walk into Mordor."

"What?"

"Oh, Kyungsoo. We need to work on your movie trivia."

Kyungsoo shakes his head at him, and they keep moving, approaching the capital's walls slowly.

Nothing gets clearer as they get closer. Everything just gets bigger, and scarier, and more daunting. "If there's only one way in, and I can't use this ID, what am I supposed to do?" he asks Kyungsoo desperately. " _Become_ a soldier for the Black Party?"

"I said there was only one _gate_ ," Kyungsoo clarifies, frowning. "Not that there was only one way in."

Chanyeol groans, and they start walking around the city, moving eastwards, as if a secret entrance will pop up. "Am I going to have to tunnel underneath the wall? Will I spontaneously find a shovel and have to _dig_ my way in?"

"I really don't know, Chanyeol," Kyungsoo says, but he snorts.

Chanyeol comes up with a number of other ludicrous possibilities for getting into Solarium (including "use my sword to slowly chip a hole into that solid granite wall" and "masquerade as the Dictator himself") before they see a new shape on the horizon, about a kilometer away from the city walls, and move closer to investigate.

"It's an army base," Kyungsoo says as they draw closer and make out the shape of a chainlink fence around it. "You know, full of extremely skilled people who want to kill you. And this one isn't abandoned like the last one we were in."

"I'm just looking," Chanyeol says with a huff, creeping towards it and keeping an eye out for someone ready to shoot him. "Do you really think this army base would be here if it didn't serve a purpose in the game? This is probably a huge clue."

"I'm not saying it doesn't serve a purpose," Kyungsoo grouches. "I'm saying it's _dangerous._ "

"And I'm being careful," Chanyeol insists, patting his gun and keeping one hand on his sword hilt. 

They get within twenty meters of the fence, and nothing jumps out to attack him. Through the fencing, Chanyeol can see low buildings, tents, stationary vehicles...

Aircrafts.

"Soo. Soo, could I _fly_ into the capital?" Chanyeol asks quietly, staring at the ship on the other side of the fence. It's just sitting there, _waiting_ to be flown.

Kyungsoo is quiet for several moments, and Chanyeol turns around to look at him. His guide's face is flat and pale.

"What? I could, couldn't I. I even—I even have a pilot's licence! Well, I mean. A fake one. I stole it. But I have a pilot's ID. That's why, isn't it? Because I can use it to get into a ship."

"Chanyeol," Kyungsoo says quietly. "Do you remember what I told you about flying ships in this game?"

Chanyeol does, although belatedly. "Oh. You said they're, like, really hard to fly, right?"

"They're practically _impossible_ to fly. And I can guarantee that if you steal an aircraft from an army camp, there will be people after you. It will not be easy flying." Kyungsoo's tone is dark. Chanyeol knows he's lost a hero in less dangerous circumstances.

"I know, Soo. I know. But how else am I supposed to get in?" Chanyeol flails emphatically. "Do you think there _is_ an easy way to get into the fucking _capital city?_ There's a reason why no one's allowed in. I'm assuming they'll do anything they can to keep us out."

Kyungsoo exhales hard through his nose. "I don't want you to die, Chanyeol."

Chanyeol turns to him fully, places his palms on Kyungsoo's cheeks. "I don't _want_ to die, Soo. But what else am I supposed to do?"

"Look for another way in first," Kyungsoo whispers. "Promise me."

"Okay." Chanyeol sighs. "We'll keep looking."

They haven't moved a step before something starts beeping. Chanyeol jumps, on guard in an instant, hand flying to his blaster, but before he can even get it into his arms Kyungsoo is hissing, " _Your belt, Yeol._ "

"My—what?" Chanyeol looks, and realizes the transmission device given to him by Minseok is flashing as it rings, way too loud in the silence surrounding them. He scrabbles for it, pressing every button he can find to make it shut up. 

" _Chanyeol!_ " Minseok's voice blasts through the speakers at the bottom, and a moment later the screen lights up with his face. " _Chanyeol, listen._ " 

"Minseok?" Chanyeol stares at him, shocked. "What's going on?"

" _Where are you, Chanyeol? Have you reached the capital?_ "

"I'm—yeah, I'm right by it," Chanyeol says, eyes wide. He can hear yelling and explosions in the background on Minseok's end, and really, that doesn't bode well. 

" _Good. I hope you have a way in, because things are going to shit out here and I think this might be the end of it. If you're going to do something heroic, do it now._ " 

"What?" Chanyeol says, only barely managing to keep his voice down. "What's happening?"

" _I staged a bit of an uprising out here, and things just, I don't know, got a bit out of hand. A bunch of civilians joined in, because honestly, life has been hell for a long time for a lot of people, and the R-Guards just went berserk. It's a warzone out here, people are—_ " There's a loud crash, and Minseok ducks his head as dust rains down on him. " _People are dying. A lot of people. They're trying to shut down this revolution with everything they've got. I already talked to Xing, Joon’s with him, apparently the same thing is going on in other cities as well. If you're going to need me, tell me now, because we're about to break out all the artillery we have, which includes a couple aircraft. I can be at the capital in two hours if you need me there._ " 

Chanyeol's breathing accelerates. "I need more time than that, I don't have—"

" _You don't have more time than that, Chanyeol. Do you need me? If not, I'm going to stay here and do what I can, but I doubt we'll last more than a few hours. Four, tops._ " Minseok ducks again, then retreats into another room. There's more shouting. 

"Oh my god," Chanyeol gasps. "I'm not—I'm not ready, Minseok."

" _So do you want me or not? If I come to help you, you sure as hell better make it worthwhile._ " 

"Yeah," Chanyeol says, a split-second decision. "Yes, come, I'll—I'll figure something out. Oh my god."

" _Alright. I'll see you in a couple hours, hero. Good luck._ "

Chanyeol is freaking out. He's shaking as he clips his transmission device back onto his belt, so much that it takes him several tries. He stares at Kyungsoo, who stares back with wide eyes. "Soo," he chokes. "Soo, I don't know what to do."

"You have two hours, Chanyeol," Kyungsoo says quickly. "You have two hours to formulate a plan. And then you have to go in."

Chanyeol whines high in his throat. "I can't," he says. "I can't do it, I don't know what to do, I don't even know what I'm going to do once I'm _in_ the capital, much less _how_ to get in, and I'm. I'm scared. I'm so fucking scared."

"I know." Kyungsoo voice is low and even. "Chanyeol, I know you're scared. But this _is_ a video game. It is not impossible. They will make it clear to you what you have to do once you're in there. You just need to move."

Chanyeol sucks in several quick, shallow breaths, then nods and flips his visor down. The time is passing too quickly, at triple speed at least. He doesn't actually have two hours. He has 45 minutes, tops. "Kyungsoo, I'm going to have to fly the aircraft."

" _No_ ," Kyungsoo says harshly. "Chanyeol, you will _die_."

"I don't have a choice, Soo. I don't have time to find another way in. I don't even know if there _is_ another way in. The call from Minseok was obviously triggered by me finding it." Chanyeol tries desperately to slow his breathing. "You're going to have to help me fly that thing."

Kyungsoo stares up at him, swallowing hard, and Chanyeol flips up his visor to meet his gaze. "I don't want you to die," Kyungsoo whispers. 

On instinct, Chanyeol wraps his arms around Kyungsoo and pulls him in to hug him tightly, eyes closed. "Then I'm going to do my fucking best to stay alive.”

Time passes too quickly. Chanyeol is in a frenzy, trying to make sure he's prepared to head into battle. If time keeps moving as fast as it currently is, he has forty odd minutes to get _into_ the capital. Which means has has twenty to get into that ship, because he has the feeling that isn't going to be a quick and easy trip.

It's not enough time, but it has to be. Chanyeol does a hasty perimeter check around the army camp, breathing hard, searching for a way in. He knows he could hack and slash his way in through the fencing, but that's sure to attract an audience, no matter how quiet it is inside the camp right now, and Chanyeol can't afford that. There's an entrance on one side, and there's a keypad next to the gate. Chanyeol has an ID card, which he assumes will get him in, but will also probably set off an alarm, with his luck. But maybe that's okay, as long as he gets into a ship before anyone notices.

He doesn't really have a choice, because his twenty minutes are running out, and Chanyeol needs to get into that ship _now_. Taking a deep breath, he flicks out the dead pilot's ID card and swipes it through the scanner. The door springs open, and Chanyeol doesn't wait to see if anyone's going to launch an attack at him. He just runs through, checking once to make sure Kyungsoo is right behind him, and heads for the nearest aircraft.

Nothing jumps out at him on his way there, but Chanyeol assumes he's on a time limit anyway, because it's better than assuming he has all the time in the world. The machine in front of him is black and sleek, but it looks basically the same as the one he'd found beside the river, and he pulls down the short ladder leading up to the cockpit easily, tugging open the door. It's a two-seater, one in front of the controls and another seat behind, and Chanyeol clambers into the front, letting Kyungsoo get in behind him and close the door.

"Holy shit," Chanyeol says, looking down at the mess of buttons, levers, dials, and joysticks. "How the _fuck_ am I supposed to fly this thing?"

"Yeah, exactly," Kyungsoo hisses from behind him as he pulls on one of the helmets hanging from hooks in the ceiling. Chanyeol doesn't bother, figuring his own will do, but he does strap himself into his seat as he looks over the buttons. Many of them are labelled, but not all of them make _sense._

"Kyungsoo, half of this is gibberish. Where do I even start?" he asks, panicking. 

"Well, first of all, turn it on," Kyungsoo says, and his voice comes in through Chanyeol's helmet loud and clear. "The ID card, Yeol."

"Okay, alright. Got it." Chanyeol inserts the card into a slot, and a bunch of lights power on, and backlights on all the buttons. The motor hums to life, quiet but steady. "Alright, turned on."

"Okay. Listen to me closely, and do exactly what I tell you to do, as soon as I tell you to do it. Understand?"

"I understand," Chanyeol says raptly. His heart is beating so fast he thinks it might just give out on him at some point.

"Alright. All engines on. There are four toggle switches, turn them all on, from right to left."

Chanyeol finds them on the dash and flips them quickly, and the purring gets louder. "Done."

"Stabilizers," Kyungsoo orders next. "On both sides at the same time. Only the first set."

Chanyeol searches the dash, feeling precious seconds tick past before he finds two switches labelled _primary stabilizers_ and turns them both on. The ship rocks slightly to the left and right, then settles, and then Chanyeol hears yelling. " _Shit._ " 

"Focus, Yeol," Kyungsoo says. "Turn on your repulsors. Those will get you off the ground. When the dial reaches 5, you've built up enough power to lift. Do not try to lift before you've reached 5." 

Chanyeol finds the switch labelled _repulsors_ and flips it. Immediately, the ship jolts off the ground, rising slightly. A low whine starts, slowly building up to a higher pitch, and Chanyeol sees a small dial with a needle passing by 1, then 2. "Oh my god," he whispers. 

"When you reach 5, pull up on the yoke _slowly_. And I'm serious. So slowly. Go as slow as you can, and then half that speed. Do not fucking blast us into the stratosphere." 

Chanyeol watches the needle as his heart rabbits, hands curling around the yoke in front of him. The dial passes 3, then 4, climbing to 5, and there's more yelling outside. He hears other machines powering up. The needle passes into the green of the dial, and Chanyeol closes his eyes and inches the yoke up. 

It's still too fast, apparently, because they jolt upwards in a way that makes Chanyeol's stomach lurch, but then their ascent slows and they creep upwards at a slower pace. Chanyeol's hands shake. 

"Go twice as high as the tallest building, then turn on your thrusters," Kyungsoo commands. "Then your second set of stabilizers. Then continue ascending as you move forwards, _slowly,_ to get a steady climb going."

The aircraft moves jerkily, but it moves in the right direction, and Chanyeol is proud until he sees other ships beginning to move on the ground as well. "Oh god oh god," he whispers, taking one hand off the yoke to flip on his thrusters and secondary stabilizers. 

"As you start moving forwards, press gently on the pedal by your right foot. It'll give you the extra power you need for that speed and altitude." 

Chanyeol pushes forward on his yoke, bit by bit, and presses on the pedal, and he thinks he's moving _so slowly_ , but they jerk forwards anyway. Chanyeol's grip on the yoke slips, tipping them down until all Chanyeol sees is green grass. 

" _Pull back!_ " Kyungsoo yells into his ear. "Pull back, Chanyeol, you're going to crash us."

Chanyeol yanks, and of course it's way too fast, too much, and the ship flips backwards. Chanyeol thinks he screams, and something sputters and dies. 

" _Fuck, Chanyeol,_ " Kyungsoo grits. "Push forwards, don't pull up, and switch all your stabilizers off and back on _very quickly._ " 

Breath hitching, Chanyeol pushes on his yoke, but his engines just make a coughing sound and Chanyeol thinks they're falling. 

" _The pedal, Chanyeol, you have no power_ ," Kyungsoo yells. 

It takes all of Chanyeol's willpower not to stomp on the pedal at his feet and instead press on it smoothly as he moves his yoke forwards at the same pace, and magically, his ship flips back forwards. Chanyeol wildly flips off all his stabilizers and then flips them back on, and everything steadies out. 

"Up and forwards," Kyungsoo says, giving him no time to celebrate that small victory. "Slowly. Press gently on the pedal. You need to find the wall and start heading for it."

Chanyeol pants as if he's been running a race, but he does what Kyungsoo says, and this time he's more successful. As soon as he's moving, it's easier to control his machine, and he steers it around in a wide circle until he sees the dark, looming walls of Solarium. "Got it," he rasps. 

"Good, head for—" Kyungsoo's words are cut off by a violent jolt, and something crashes into their ship. "Shit," he hisses. "They're firing at us."

"Of course they're firing at us!" Chanyeol says, slightly hysterical. The ship is banking left, too sharp, and it takes him a moment to stabilize them again. He finds the walls again and starts moving, pressing forwards harder this time, gaining speed. Something clips the tail of his ship, but he manages to stay on track. 

"They're going to try to block your— Yup, there they are," Kyungsoo says, and on cue, several ships appear in Chanyeol's line of sight, between him and the city. "Open fire."

"What?" Chanyeol yelps. "How?"

It devolves into a mess from there, if it wasn't one already. Kyungsoo yells at him, a steady stream of instructions and corrections, and Chanyeol tries his best to follow along, he really does, but he's in so far over his head and people are shooting at him and he's trying to do five things at once and it's _terrifying_ and _too much._

“You need to lock on your target, Chanyeol!" Kyungsoo tells him loudly, over the roaring of engines and the blast of aircraft guns. "Your target! Lock it! That button there, the red one! You can’t just shoot blindly! Lock the target, then shoot!" Kyungsoo makes a frustrated sound. "Shield, shield! You can’t shoot and shield at the same time! You have to transfer power from one to the other, and your shield needs to recharge in between. Shoot!”

"I'm fucking trying!" Chanyeol yells back, steering his ship around one careening towards him, his turn probably too sharp to be safe. "Oh my god, Soo, there are red lights blinking at me. My primary stabilizers are down." The ship begins to rattle. 

"It's fine, you're fine," Kyungsoo says, but he doesn't sound too confident. "You just have to— _Shoot, Chanyeol!_ " 

"I'm _trying!_ " 

"You just have to turn on the back-ups. There are two smaller switches underneath the others."

"I just have to turn them on?" Chanyeol says, locking on a target and pressing his thumb hard to the trigger on his yoke, then adjusting for the added pressure. His ship dips, shudders, makes a scary grinding sound. 

"No, god, you have to override the primaries first. Just— _shield!_ " 

Kyungsoo hastily gives Chanyeol a ten-second crash course on overriding controls, and it makes his ship stall in mid-air, which he has to recover from, but he gets it done, and they start moving again. He's three-quarters of the way to the city walls, and two of the four ships that had been shooting at him earlier are burning on the ground, which is a miracle in itself. The other two are behind him, but Chanyeol is really moving now, approaching the capital at top speed as he rides a wave of good luck and fortunate button-smashing, attempting to shoot backwards at the same time using the low-quality screen on his dash. He hits one of the ships, and it doesn't go down, but he whoops in victory anyway. 

They've just breached the walls when they get hit hard from behind, jarring them, and red alert lights start flashing. "I think that means we're going down," Chanyeol says, feeling his controls falter under his hands. 

"Damn right it does," Kyungsoo agrees. "You better make this crash count."


	21. Chapter 21

Minseok arrives just as Kyungsoo is telling Chanyeol how to execute an emergency ejection. 

Chanyeol sees the fleet of five or six aircraft swooping in from the south, their sides splashed with red paint, and he whoops quickly before focusing on his spiralling, uncontrolled descent towards the city below him. His ship shakes hard enough to make Chanyeol’s vision swim, and he blinks hard, tries to focus. There’s a big, dark building at the center of the city, and that’s what Chanyeol aims for, hands firm on the yoke, trying not to let the jerky movements of the ship alter their course. There are blasters shooting at him from either side of the building, but Chanyeol ignores them; it’s not like he needs this ship for much longer. 

“Don’t you dare botch the timing,” Kyungsoo tells him tersely. His voice shakes along with the aircraft. “You can’t afford to waste time.”

“Counting down,” Chanyeol says, keeping one eye on the _eject_ button and one on his destination. “5...4...3…” He wrenches his yoke back, starts to pull up on his descent, adjusts for a blast that knocks them slightly off-course. “2…” He flips up the cover over the button. “1!” He presses it firmly.

The next few seconds are utter chaos, and Chanyeol doesn’t quite know what happens. There’s a lot of loud crashing noises, and something yanks at his body, still strapped into his seat, and he feels pain but he’s not sure where it’s coming from. He follows his ship through the roof of the building and lands in a heap of burning rubble, slowed down by the parachute attached to his seat but still moving fast enough for it to _hurt._ Fire licks at his elbow, and he closes his eyes to stop his head from spinning as he slaps at the flames blindly. Gasping for breath, he pushes himself up and over, yanking off his seatbelt. 

He finds himself in a pile of wreckage, with Kyungsoo struggling to his feet nearby. “You okay?” Chanyeol yells over the roar of things breaking and exploding. 

“Fine!” Kyungsoo yells back, pulling off his helmet to discard it. “Half-robot, remember?”

Chanyeol grins, heart pounding, and turns to look around. “Where do I go now?”

“There’s only going to be one way out. Find it!”

So Chanyeol does. Ducking and dodging around fallen rafters, raw wires, and smoking debris, he finds one door that’s blocked by what he thinks used to be part of the ship’s engine, and then one door that’s clear. He pulls it open and ducks through, Kyungsoo right behind him, and finds himself in a long corridor that stretches down in either direction. “Now what?” he asks, using this moment of indecision to stop and pull an HP booster out of his pack. It’d dropped to 58% in the crash, and he’s not interested in heading into this next part on half life. “Where _are_ we, even?” 

“We’re in the parliament building,” Kyungsoo tells him grimly. “This is where the Dictator is, and also where MAISS is stationed.”

“Oh.” Chanyeol looks around. “Well, where is that fucking guy, I should probably kill him or something.”

“His main office is to our left,” Kyungsoo tells him, and _honestly,_ how would Chanyeol have survived without him? “MAISS is down the hall to our right.”

Chanyeol turns left and starts walking, then freezes. “Shit, Soo, what if the Dictator is a real dude? What am I supposed to do?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “Deal with that when you get there, Yeol.”

So Chanyeol keeps going, Zitao’s blaster in his hands and his sword in easy reach. His breath is coming fast, and his heart is hammering against his ribs, and he can hear gun blasts and shouts and explosions on the other side of the walls around him, but he feels oddly serene. This is it. This is the end. He just has to get through this, and it’ll be over, one way or another. 

The door to the Dictator's main office is huge, ornate, and easy enough to open, once Chanyeol blasts the locks off of them. As soon as they are, though, _Chanyeol_ is being shot at, and he ducks under a handful of blasts before opening fire on the guards inside the room. He tries to move as he shoots, but it's hard to walk and fire the enormous blaster at the same time, especially because he's getting hit at the same time, and he tries to keep an eye on his HP as he simultaneously tries to look for the Dictator _and_ watch where his blaster target is aiming. Eventually, he's in too close of range to keep shooting, and he slings his gun behind him and draws his sword, swinging at any body close enough to hit.

He kills four of the six guards inside the room before he spots the man sitting behind the heavy desk at the back of the large room, and as soon as he has his gun out and aiming at him, he feels his legs drawing him closer against his will. Cutscene, then. He holds his breath and doesn't struggle.

The guards around him have ceased fire, and Chanyeol can focus wholly on the man in front of him as he approaches the desk. He's middle-aged, with black hair that's turning silver at the temples, and he doesn't _look_ particularly villainous. If anything, he looks tired, and resigned. Does he already know he's lost?

He also looks a little bit fake, like a wax figure, and relief rushes through Chanyeol. Not real. Thank _god._

"You were foolish to come here," the man says, voice dark as he frowns at Chanyeol across his desk, calm as anything. "There's nothing you can do."

"I can kill you," Chanyeol says, choosing from a list of options that all sound a little too smug. 

"Oh, son. That isn't going to do anything. You think I am the one at the heart of all of this?" The man chuckles humourlessly, and Chanyeol gapes at him. 

"What? What do you mean?" 

"I may be the head of this government," the Dictator says solemnly. "But I am not the one in charge. Do you understand? I only have so much power here. I have only had so much power for a long time."

Chanyeol opens his mouth to ask him to just _explain_ , dammit, but before he can, he sees the guards on either side of them turn, and he flinches, ready to defend himself. Instead of shooting at him, though, they turn their guns to the Dictator, who sighs and closes his eyes. 

"What the hell?" Chanyeol yelps. 

"This is not the Paran I wanted," the Dictator says, and then both guns fire, and he falls. 

"Holy shit!" Chanyeol's heart stops, then starts pounding as the guards turn back to him, guns raised. Chanyeol has his sword out and swinging in one motion, and it takes less than a minute and 20% of his HP to kill them both. Then he's alone in the room, with six fallen guards and one dead body. "Holy _shit._ " 

"Chanyeol," Kyungsoo says urgently. 

"What? Soo, _shit,_ he's dead. What am I supposed to do now?"

"Think about what he _said,_ Chanyeol," Kyungsoo tells him, brows furrowed. 

Chanyeol does, trying to catch his breath and digging out another HP booster. He has several to spare, and he's not going to let them go to waste. 

"This isn't the Paran he wanted," Chanyeol repeats, swallowing hard. "He—didn't Zitao say something like that?"

Kyungsoo nods, and Chanyeol racks his brain.

"He said...he said that before MAISS, the Dictator cared about the people. He— Oh my god. MAISS. The Dictator's not in charge, his _fucking robot is._ "

Kyungsoo doesn't respond, but Chanyeol knows he's right. 

"Oh my _god._ That's why— _Strike the beast at the heart._ Fuck. He even said—he was the head. MAISS is the heart. Fucking fuck, I need to go destroy that thing. Of _course_ your huge artificial intelligence system is taking over the world. Of _course._ "

Chanyeol bolts for the doors, but they don't budge. "What the hell?"

"MAISS knows you're here," Kyungsoo tells him. "He's locking you in."

"Oh hell no," Chanyeol says. "Not today, buddy."

He fires at the door with Zitao's blaster, but it doesn't seem to do any damage. _Great._ There's a keypad by the door, showing four blanks for numbers, but Chanyeol has no idea where to even _start_ in terms of cracking the code. 

"Zitao told you that you'd need more than brute force to finish this off," Kyungsoo reminds him. "You need to _think_ , Yeol."

Chanyeol _can't_ think. His head is spinning, and he has the feeling he's on limited time here, and he has no idea what to do, and he's panicking, just a little. A super-powerful robot just turned his minions against their own supposed master, who is currently bleeding out on the floor, and he knows Chanyeol is here. Minseok and his fellow rebels may be keeping some of the soldiers busy, but they won't be able to hold them off forever. 

"Chanyeol, you need to start working out how to open these doors _now,_ " Kyungsoo tells him. " _Right now._ " 

Chanyeol sucks in a series of sharp, shallow breaths, then turns and looks frantically around the room. _Video game_ , he reminds himself. _It has to be possible._

There's a map of Paran on the far wall, behind the desk, with five pins stuck into it, each in different colours. It would look completely innocent, except that there are numbers from 1 to 9 along the top and side, making a grid for coordinates, and instead of having a map key, it has a section in the corner that tells him to add up the two numbers in each coordinate. Beside the map is a screen, showing a half-completed math equation with five blanks, each underlined in the same colours as the pins in the map. 

Chanyeol scrabbles for the pen hanging from the side of the map on a string and starts scribbling out the coordinates for each pin, muttering to himself as he goes. (1,5), (2,2). (7,4). (6,2). (9,8). 6, 4, 11, 8, 17. He moves over, grabs a stylus, and starts filling the numbers into the blanks in the equation. It's not particularly long or complex, but hell, Chanyeol hasn't done this kind of mental math since university. People have calculators for a reason.

He checks his math twice after he completes it, swallowing hard. The solution comes out to 164. It's not enough numbers for the door. " _Fuck._ "

"Keep looking, Chanyeol," Kyungsoo urges, and Chanyeol whips around for something that needs three numbers. He forces himself to look at the place where the Dictator lies on the floor, wondering if he'll have to search his body, then spots all the drawers on his desk.

Most of the drawers open easily and produce nothing you wouldn't expect to see in a government official's desk, but the third one down contains a small black box with a lock on it, which requires a 3-number combination. He spins the dials quickly, and it clicks open. Inside is an electronic tablet which, when powered on, reveals a 5x5 puzzle. Swearing under his breath, Chanyeol starts to drag around the pieces, starting on the edge ones and then moving inwards methodically. He feels hot tears welling in his eyes as he grits his teeth, working slowly, too slowly. This just feels so _stupid_ , when people could be dying outside and his own life is in danger and he's doing fucking _puzzles._ He could scream.

But there are people counting on him, and this is a video game, and Chanyeol has to finish.

He slides the last piece into the puzzle a minute later, hands shaking, and the screen flashes white, then shows four numbers. Chanyeol breathes a sigh of relief and rushes for the door, punching the numbers into the keypad. The doors swing open.

Four guards pour into the room, shooting wildly, and Chanyeol reaches for his sword instinctively. He's really glad he took that boost now, because he's getting hit a lot at close-range, and it's doing a number on his HP. Clenching his jaw, he hacks away at the group of them, sometimes hitting two in one swing, and one by one they fall away. Chanyeol takes a moment to catch his breath, then turns and bolts down the hall.

The door to MAISS's control room is much more unassuming than the Dictator's office door. It's small and black with a screen set in the center, no doorknob. Chanyeol presses the button at the top.

It's a maze. It's a maze with a timer at the top, giving him thirty seconds to figure it out; something a robot could do easily, and something a practiced human could do without any serious problems. But Chanyeol is not a robot, and he's obviously never done this maze in his life, and he can hear more guards trooping into the building even as he sets a finger at the start and begins to move through the narrow gaps. The second he takes his finger off, the screen flashes and resets, and he has to start again.

The first group of guards reaches him before he gets far into his third attempt, and he has to stop to kill them, shooting two with Zitao's blaster and finishing the other three with his sword. He starts back at the maze before his wounds have even begun healing, gritting his teeth together against the pain. Kyungsoo stands beside him, silent and obviously vibrating with repressed frustration. Chanyeol can't even begin to imagine what it must be like, forced to be there but unable to help in any way.

It takes Chanyeol forty-two tries to get through the maze in under thirty seconds. By the time he reaches ten, he wants to bang his head against the wall, because every few minutes he gets interrupted by soldiers trying to kill him and has to stop in the middle of a run, and sometimes his finger slips off the screen and he has to start over, and he _can't do it._ But he keeps going, keeps trying, and finally, _finally,_ he gets it. He almost can't believe it, but then the door is jerking open, and Chanyeol stops to drain another HP boost. This is the end.

"Chanyeol," Kyungsoo whispers.

Chanyeol turns to look at him, and the enormity of the situation strikes him. The moment Chanyeol goes in there, that's it. Either he'll win the game, or he'll lose. And that—that's everything. Chanyeol could die, and send Kyungsoo back to the beginning of the game to wait for another hero, another chance, something that might _never come._ Or he could win. And then what? What happens to them? They have no way of knowing.

Kyungsoo just stares up at him, eyes wide, so Chanyeol pulls him in close and hugs him, squeezing him tightly. "I love you," he says, and closes his eyes.

"You've only known me for seventeen days," Kyungsoo says, voice wavering.

"Soo, considering all the shit we've been through together, I think seventeen days is more than enough." Chanyeol smiles slightly, even though he knows Kyungsoo can't see it. 

"I know," Kyungsoo agrees. "Please don't die."

"I'm really going to try my hardest not to."

"Good."

Chanyeol pulls back, flips his visor up, and leans in to kiss him firmly. "For good luck," he says with a slight smile. 

"In that case," Kyungsoo says, and he presses their mouths together hard enough that it almost hurts. "Don't fucking die."

"I won't," Chanyeol whispers, and they both know it's not a promise he can keep.

Then he straightens and walks through the door.

The room has no artificial lights, but there's a large, tinted window on one wall, letting in muted sunlight and giving Chanyeol a view of the utter destruction going on just outside; smoking remains of aircrafts, heaps of smouldering rubble, guards attacking with heavy guns, rebels fighting back tooth and nail. But Chanyeol's not looking at that right now.

He's looking at the massive metal box in the center of the room, ten feet wide and just as high, topped with a smaller box that swivels as he enters, flashing triangular red eyes. Chanyeol holds his breath.

" _You came here to destroy me,_ " comes a deep, grating voice that fills the room, echoing off the walls. " _But you will not succeed._ "

"I am so fucking tired of dramatic monologues," Chanyeol tells him, voice steadier than he feels. He lifts his blaster and fires. 

Nothing happens. The blow glances off MAISS's shiny metal exterior and disappears. He doesn't even have an HP bar. 

"What the fuck?" Chanyeol says. "What the hell am I supposed to do?"

" _So this is the man who has been causing so much trouble in my country,_ " MAISS continues, slow and leisurely, as if Chanyeol hadn't moved. " _I expected...more._ " Chanyeol doesn't bother answering; he has no response options to choose from. " _Waving guns around and shooting at things...you are not like your father._ "

Chanyeol's breath catches, and a single response option pops up. "What do you know about my father?"

" _You didn't know? Oh, child._ " 

"He wanted to destroy you. He _told_ me to," Chanyeol says.

" _Destroy me? Oh, no. Your father loved me. Your father_ made _me._ "

"What?" Chanyeol blinks, head spinning. "He—what do you mean?"

" _Let me show you._ "

Immediately, Chanyeol's vision goes black, and a scene fades into view. He recognizes the man sitting at a long, metal desk as his in-game father, though younger than when Chanyeol saw him in that dream, two weeks ago. His eyes are kind and his hands are steady as he solders wires together with a tiny flame. He steps back and inspects his work, then looks down as a small hand tugs on his shirt.

"Papa!" says a tiny voice, and Chanyeol's father smiles, reaching down. Chanyeol fully expects for the child he picks up to be _him_ , but it's not. It's a little boy with big eyes and black hair, maybe six years old, and he loops his arms around Chanyeol's father's neck. "Papa, what are you making?"

"I'm making a brother for you," Chanyeol's father says. "Aren't you excited to have a brother, little one?"

"But Papa," says the boy, pouting. "Why aren't I good enough?"

Chanyeol's father smiles sadly and pets his hair. "You are perfect," he says. "But you are too sweet for the job they want you to do when you grow up. You were made for a different job."

"What kind of different job?" the little boy asks. "Is it exciting?"

"I don't know yet," says Chanyeol's father, petting soft black hair. "But you will be amazing at it."

The little boy huffs impatiently, then turns to look at the bits and pieces of machinery on the work desk in front of them. "What will my brother look like?" he asks.

"What do you want him to look like? I can make him look however I like."

The little boy wrinkles his nose, kicking his feet. "I'd like his hair to be blue."

Chanyeol's father smiles. "Then we'll make it blue."

 _Blue hair,_ Chanyeol thinks. _Zitao? But if the new bot is Zitao, then this boy must be—_

" _Your father worked for the Black Party for a long time,_ " MAISS's voice says, echoing around Chanyeol's head even as the scene continues to play. " _He was a brilliant man. He made two prototypes before me, mixed human DNA and artificial intelligence systems. They were fantastic creations. But they were weak. Prototype I disappeared a few years later, Prototype II was hardly better. Incredible in their own right, but ultimately failures._ "

Chanyeol's mind reels. That little boy in his father's arms was Kyungsoo, before he was stolen by Kyungsoo's parents and given a new face, a new name. And fuck, _that's_ how their parents knew each other, _that's_ why they had a picture taken together. Chanyeol's dad didn't know them from working with the rebels. He met them while working for the government together—his dad as a genuine member of the group, and Kyungsoo's parents as infiltrators. 

And—holy shit. Chanyeol's been kissing his in-game brother. Kind of. He’s not Anakin Skywalker, he’s _Luke_ , and Kyungsoo is his Leia. What the hell.

The scene changes, and Chanyeol's father is still soldering, but this time he's on his knees, half-inside a large metal box as he works. When he backs out, his face is drawn, but his eyes are proud when he lifts his safety goggles to his forehead. "This artificial brain should work the same way a human brain does, in many ways," he tells the man beside him. "But with the removal of human DNA from the formula, it will be incapable of several human emotions. Pity, sympathy, remorse. It's a machine."

"That's perfect," says the man, looking pleased. "You've done well. We're sure to win the war, with this weapon on our side."

"Be careful," Chanyeol's father warns, frowning. "It may be a machine, but it's still intelligent. _Extremely_ intelligent. Don't forget that."

"You've been watching too many movies," the other man laughs. "This bot will be a weapon, nothing more. And it will lead us to victory."

Chanyeol's father frowns, but he just moves his goggles back over his eyes and moves back in to continue working.

" _He was right, of course. I_ did _lead us to victory. But I was not just a machine. I was more intelligent than they anticipated. Of course I was—stupid humans. Still, it was so easy to get them what they wanted. Power. Incredible power. If they made bots, I could control them. Endless soldiers. We were unstoppable. This is not the Paran the Dictator wanted, but it is the Paran that needed to exist for him to have the power he craved. I made that happen for him._ "

The scene changes again. They're in the Wastelands, except there are still hints of green here and there, in between the craters made by falling grenades, and the air is not yet so thick and noxious. Troops of robotic soldiers march across the ground in unison, wielding guns and electric batons, and they destroy everything in their path. They drop gas bombs, and it does nothing to affect them, but chokes the life out of their human opponents.

" _Civilians complained about my methods, but who were they to whine? We were bringing order to the country, after years of corruption. And I was at the heart of it, controlling everything, as I was made to. By your father._ "

The next scene shows Chanyeol's father, standing alone in a room with his hand on MAISS's hulking exterior. "You are the culmination of a life's work," he says solemnly, looking into glowing red eyes. "I'm placing my trust in you."

" _Your father was on my side. He believed in this cause. He would want you to join us. We are powerful. We can protect you. You can finish what he started. Don't you want to do that?_ "

Chanyeol's vision returns to him, and he gapes up at the huge bot in front of him. His only response options are _Yes_ and _No_.

He could say yes. He could say yes, and this would all be over. He thinks, if he said yes, he'd win the game. The destruction of Paran would go on, the people would continue to fight and die, but it'd be over, and he wouldn't have to fight anymore.

But he doesn't know what kind of repercussions that would have. Minseok is still out there, fighting for him, hopefully still alive, and so is Yixing, and Baekhyun and Jongdae are out there in the Wastelands, struggling to survive, and Joonmyun is risking his life every day on the river, and Sehun and Jongin on the streets, and Zitao in the hills, and Yifan wherever he is, and maybe others, and Chanyeol doesn't know what would happen to them all if he said yes.

"No," he says firmly.

Immediately, MAISS rattles and shakes, looming up above him, and his voice booms through the room. " _Your father was weak, too!_ " he roars. " _He backed down as soon as he had everything, just like you. All humans are weak. He should have known better than to send one after me. You should have stayed in hiding, just like he did. The end result is the same. Nothing can stop me, especially not you._ "

"My father wasn't on your side!" Chanyeol says accusingly. "You lying piece of shit, he sent me here to destroy you! He smuggled out Kyungsoo so he could have a family that loved him! He _regretted_ you. You _let him down._ "

MAISS probably doesn't even hear him. Out of the sides of its massive body come two swinging arms, and Chanyeol feels the first blast before he even sees it. Pain spreads across his body, and he gasps, lifting his blaster to retaliate.

His offensive blows continue to do absolutely nothing, bouncing right off of MAISS's indestructible exterior. Chanyeol yells in frustration, staggering when another blast hits his right arm.

" _You think guns or swords can hurt me? You think I am so fragile? I was made to withstand war, human child. I was made to be unstoppable._ " The blows continue to rain down on him, and MAISS’s voice booms over them.

Chanyeol abandons the blaster, sucking in deep breaths. _Keep your head,_ he tells himself harshly. _Think._ It's so hard to think when he's under constant attack, with nowhere to hide. His HP is dropping by 5's. "I need to shut him the fuck down," he grits out, mostly to himself. He needs Sehun in here. Sehun would know what to do with a robot.

Sehun. Who told him that the smarter a bot is, the harder it is to stop, because it can reboot itself. Who told him most intelligent bots have—

"A kill code!" Chanyeol yells, and immediately, four blanks pop up in front of him where response options would usually be. Four words.

"Fucking fuck!" Chanyeol wants to scream. How the hell is he supposed to come up with a solution _now,_ with 45% HP, in a room with nothing other than an all-powerful robot?

 _Video game,_ he tells himself, over and over. _This is a game. This is a game. You have everything you need to figure this out._

He gets a powerful hit to his chest, and he falls flat on his ass. It doesn't matter. He can't do anything to protect himself anyway. 

He has so few clues. Nothing in his inventory that could possible help. Nothing but a few names, a few vague hints, rattling around his brain. He barely has any memories of his father, the man who created the monster in front of him.

Memories of his father.

He has one.

"Strike at the heart!" he yells, and everything goes silent.

The room explodes.

 

"Chanyeol! Chanyeol, get up, we're not done yet!"

Chanyeol feels like his head is stuffed full of cotton, and everything aches. He groans, rolling over, and sees Kyungsoo above him. "Huh?"

"You did it, you destroyed MAISS, but you're not done," Kyungsoo says urgently. "The bots are all down, but every human supporter of the Black Party is still around, and this place is falling to pieces. Get the fuck up, you need to get to the broadcasting room!"

"The what?" Chanyeol squints, sits up, blinking hard. "Why?"

"You need to tell the people of Paran the truth about the Dictator, and MAISS, and everything," Kyungsoo tells him, trying to haul him to his feet. "You need to trigger the ending cutscene. You need to go _right now._ "

Chanyeol stumbles upright, his head slowly clearing. He feels sluggish and dazed, but Kyungsoo is still pulling on his arm, and everything around him is on fire and Chanyeol doesn't want to be around that, anyway. He starts moving, feet clumsy but mobile.

They make it out of the room, but everything out there is on fire, too. Chanyeol has to dodge around flaming chunks of machinery and collapsing walls, and more than once he gets hit by stray blasts. He thinks there are soldiers inside, shooting at him, but everything is so fuzzy that he can't be sure. He focuses on moving.

The walls are falling around him. He knows that much. He passes by the Dictator's door and keeps going, around a corner, towards a white door along the next corridor. That must be it. Kyungsoo is half-dragging him towards it.

They reach the door, and a low whine has started, getting louder and louder. It doesn't sound good. Chanyeol pushes through, grateful when he doesn't have to figure out some complicated puzzle to get in, and sees a long room with a screen on the far side, cameras pointed at it. This must be where the Dictator broadcasts his speeches, or whatever it is dictators do. Chanyeol stumbles forwards.

"Go go go go go go go," Kyungsoo chants, pushing him along. The whining sound is getting louder, closer. It sounds like a bomb. Chanyeol wonders if destroying MAISS had some sort of self-destruct trigger. He wonders if the whole capital city is going to explode.

The whining is almost unbearable as Chanyeol approaches the cameras. He squints at them, switches them on. He can barely think over that obnoxious sound. He takes Kyungsoo's hand and holds on tight. When did he lose his helmet? He's glad, because that way Kyungsoo can look at him when he mouths, _I'm not letting go._

He searches for the the _broadcast all_ button. He stands in front of the cameras with Kyungsoo, pushes it.

There's a moment of perfect silence.

The bomb strikes, and all Chanyeol can see is fire.

His vision goes black.

His HP drops to 0.


	22. Chapter 22

Chanyeol wakes up on May 14, 2019, in front of his fuzzy desktop screen. There’s sunlight spilling in through his curtains, and Chanyeol has a crick in his neck, like he’d spent the whole night sleeping in a weird position. 

He wakes up hyperventilating.

"No," he gasps, shaking, heart racing. "No, no, nonono. What's going on."

His alarm clock is blaring. It's 7:22; seven minutes after he sets it to wake him up for work. He always forgets to turn it off on the weekend.

It takes him another three minutes to get his breathing under control. Deep breaths in, hold it, exhale. Again. As soon as he stops wheezing, he notices the tears wetting his cheeks.

This has to be a joke. His computer is completely frozen, and refuses to respond. He's too scared to restart it. He's scared that'll make things worse.

It wasn't a dream. It _couldn't_ have been a dream. He still remembers the pain of the cut under his knee, the weight of his sword, the warmth of Kyungsoo's hand against his own.

Kyungsoo.

He has to be here. It wasn't a dream, Chanyeol _refuses_ to believe it's a dream. Chanyeol has to have won. He has to have gotten everyone out.

He cannot have failed.

"Oh my god," he whispers, standing up on trembling legs. He's never been so scared in his life. He wasn't this scared when he was facing an enormous, murderous robot. Any of the several he faced.

Chanyeol's still wearing the clothes he changed into before sitting down to play _Paran._ Last night. That was last night. He stumbles out of his apartment, down the hall to the elevator, shaking. He jumps when it dings upon arriving, hand flying to his hip. There's no sword there. Of course there isn't.

Stepping outside into the brisk morning air almost makes Chanyeol burst into tears. He can feel the sun on his face for the first time in days—weeks—hours? Yesterday. Weeks ago. He doesn't know. The breeze ruffles his hair, and Chanyeol runs his fingers through it, then turns to look at his reflection in the glass doors of his apartment building. His hair is brown again. 

A car drives past, loud and sudden, and Chanyeol jumps again. He realizes for the first time that he's tense, waiting. He's waiting for something to attack him. On a quiet street in Seoul. 

Oh, fuck. 

He's not sure how long he stands there, looking around, swallowing compulsively around his rising panic. Something vibrates against his thigh, and he pulls out his phone. He has a text from his mom, asking if he's still coming over for breakfast tomorrow, and one from a coworker, asking if he can take over his shift. Chanyeol ignores them both. He just...he can't right now. Not now. 

Chanyeol feels naked without armour on. He feels exposed. He retreats back inside, still shaking.

Kyungsoo. He needs to find Kyungsoo. If Chanyeol won the game—if pressing the broadcast button was enough—if winning the game got Kyungsoo out regardless—he needs to find him. He takes one look at his unresponsive desktop and goes to find his work laptop, dragging it out of its protective case and booting it up. Just the thought of using technology right now makes him nauseous, but he's desperate. 

He opens a new tab, then watches his cursor blink in the Google search bar.

He doesn't even know Kyungsoo's last name. He never fucking asked.

Slowly, with careful fingers, he brings up his Facebook page, rarely used other than to plan group events. He types in Kyungsoo's name. There are a thousand Kyungsoos in Korea, and most of the pages that come up are of some celebrity with the same name. He closes his eyes and exits out of the window.

He doesn't open them for a long time. His thoughts are all over the place, his emotions spiking between relief and fear and elation and horror. It's enough to make him dizzy.

It takes him another half hour to put on real clothes, grabbed off his floor, and pick up his phone. He knows very little about Kyungsoo’s real life, but he knows his first name, and he knows that he went to Dongguk University. It’s barely anything, but it’s something. 

“ _We’re not allowed to give out that information, sir,_ ” says the secretary on the phone, and Chanyeol wants to throw it at the ground. He forgot his keys and wallet inside, but he’s already halfway to the subway station down the street; he has his T-card in his phone case, at least. 

“It’s really important,” he says hoarsely, drawing a deep breath. 

“ _It’s against our privacy policy,_ ” the secretary says firmly, and Chanyeol hangs up. 

He makes it all the way to the university before he realizes he’s being ridiculous. He’s staring at the campus, one hand in his hair, marvelling at the way his legs burn a little from climbing up subway stairs in a way he’d nearly forgotten about, and it strikes him that there’s no reason for Kyungsoo to be here. Even if he made it back, what the hell would he be doing here, at his _old_ university? 

A car honks, and Chanyeol startles, then hisses, “ _Shit_ , fucking _fuck._ ” A pair of young girls turn to stare at him, then quickly walk away. Chanyeol has to remind himself that they’re fully conscious, self-aware beings. He has to stop himself from going to talk to them eagerly. He probably looks half-insane, unshowered and dressed in rumpled clothes and swearing at a university campus. 

God, Chanyeol would kill to take a shower right now. 

But he’s even more desperate to see a familiar face, _any_ familiar face, so he gets back on the subway and squeezes into a mostly-full car. His sister lives nearby, if he takes Line 3 up to Chungmuro and transfers onto Line 4. He can take this time to focus on not bursting into tears when he sees her. He’s not sure he’s ready to explain everything yet, if he ever will be. Maybe he’ll just let people guess why he jumps at every loud sound forever. It’s probably better than the alternative. 

Chanyeol’s sister is one of the most lovely people he has ever had the pleasure of knowing. Yura opens the door and takes one look at him, then sighs and says, “Oh, Yeollie. Come inside, I’ll get you a juicebox.”

Chanyeol has to blink his eyes at the sound of the familiar nickname. His sister has called him that since they were kids, but Kyungsoo called him that too, a couple times. 

He sits down stiffly on Yura’s couch, staring blankly at her TV screen, and waits for her to return with his juice. He knows she only buys them for when he comes over. Chanyeol doesn’t even buy them for himself, but Yura always makes sure she has some in her apartment. She says she likes to treat him like her little brother, no matter how old he gets. 

“Alright, what’s wrong?” she asks as she sits down on the coffee table to face him and Chanyeol fumbles with the wrapping on his straw. 

“What?” Chanyeol says vaguely, taking a sip of his juice and then sucking down the rest of it eagerly. He forgot what good drinks tasted like. 

“You’re at my house before 9 in the morning on a Saturday,” Yura says gently. “And you look like you wore those clothes yesterday.” She squints at him. “Did you have a one night stand?”

Chanyeol barks out a laugh. “No, no, nothing like that. I just...had a rough night.” Understatement of the century. “And it’s been a while since I saw you.” 

“You were just over Wednesday night,” Yura reminds him. Her eyebrows furrow, and then her skeptical look softens. “Oh, Yeollie, are the nightmares back?”

Chanyeol blinks, then realizes what she’s talking about. Chanyeol had nightmares about their dad for _years_ after he died. He winces. She’s not wrong, technically. His whole adventure in Paran had been one big nightmare, and his PTSD had definitely added to that. “I—”

“Oh, sweetie,” Yura murmurs, and she moves to sit beside him and pull him against her side, letting him hide his face in her shoulder. She’s still sleep-warm and dressed in the t-shirt and soft shorts she wears to bed, and she smells familiar, and she feels comforting, and Chanyeol lets himself slump against her, closing his eyes and soaking in this feeling. 

Yura feels steady and real and _safe,_ and Chanyeol only realizes he’s crying when she starts to shush him gently. Chanyeol sniffs and shudders and swallows hard, but the tears keep coming, and everything feels like too much, he can’t handle it. He doesn’t know what to do, and he’s scared, and at the same time he’s so _relieved,_ because he’s alive and he’s home and he’s with family and it makes him feel so _guilty,_ because he doesn’t know if anyone else got out. He tried so hard, _so hard_ to win for them, and in the last seconds, he might have failed. He didn’t do enough. 

Everything has happened so quickly, and Chanyeol is so overwhelmed, and he wants Kyungsoo, because Kyungsoo has been helping Chanyeol deal with this kind of shit for weeks. 

But Yura has been helping him deal with shit for years, and she’s stroking his hair and hugging him and telling him everything is okay, and everything _isn’t_ okay, and she doesn’t understand, but she keeps holding him for as long as he cries, and that helps. 

“You wanna take a shower, bud?” Yura asks after Chanyeol has quietened down a little. 

Chanyeol can’t find his voice, so he just nods and lets his sister hug him one last time before she sends him off to her bathroom. 

He feels a little sorry for using up all her hot water while he’s in there, but standing under the warm spray is as mentally soothing and cleansing as it is physically. He leans against the shower wall and lets the water beat down on him, and he can pretend he’s letting that other world fall away from his skin and wash down the drain. That other Chanyeol. 

As if it could be so easy. 

He feels more tired when he’s dressed and sitting on Yura’s couch again, more numb. His sister gets him another juicebox, then lets him sit there for a few minutes, silent and still shivering, before she says, “Do you want to watch TV?”

“No!” Chanyeol blurts, then cringes. “No thanks,” he says more quietly. Yura gives him a concerned look, but he ignores it. She putters around in the kitchen, washing dishes, and continues glancing at him until Chanyeol finally asks, “How would you go about finding someone you met but know almost nothing about?”

Yura looks like that is very much not the question she was expecting. She dries her hands on a towel and walks over to him to perch on the couch. “What kind of person?”

Chanyeol shakes his head. “Just a person. What if you...you only knew their first name and the university they used to go to?”

“Did you meet someone, Chanyeollie?” Yura asks, eyebrows raised. 

Chanyeol runs a hand through his damp hair, chest squeezing. “If I ever see them again, I’ll introduce you,” he promises. 

His sister hums, then shrugs. “Maybe if they went to university in that area, they still live around there? You could ask around. Or...you’d probably need their last name for that. Where did you meet them? You could go back to that place.”

Chanyeol laughs gruffly, then shakes his head, blinking his eyes as they prickle again. “I don’t think they’d go back there if they didn’t have to.” Then he sighs, stands. “Anyway, I should get going. Sorry for coming unannounced and crying on you and stuff.”

Yura stands to hug him again, patting his back rhythmically. “Feel better, Yeollie.”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says vaguely, giving her a squeeze before he leaves and heads back to the subway.

 

The mill of the crowd in Chungmuro station is overwhelming, loud and chaotic, pushing at Chanyeol on every side. Chanyeol has to force himself not to react to everything like a threat, breathing slow and taking the stairs up to Line 3. The train is just leaving as he gets there, and he sighs as he sits down on one of the grimy benches to wait. 

There’s a poster on the southbound side of the station, on the other side of the tracks, and Chanyeol stares at it for the entirety of his wait. It’s familiar—it’s been there for as long as Chanyeol can remember—and it’s grounding. Chanyeol feels lost and out of place, but the poster is weirdly normal. 

The southbound train rushes past, screeching to a halt on the tracks, and people pour out onto the opposite platform, though Chanyeol can’t see them. He keeps staring into the same spot he was before, although now his eyes are trained on the side of the car blocking his line of sight. People get out, and people get in. So many people. All of them are real. 

What is Chanyeol going to do if he doesn’t find Kyungsoo—if he isn’t here? What is he going to do if Kyungsoo’s still in the game? Go back in? Can he go back into the game? Does it work a second time? Does he _want_ to?

The southbound train leaves, and the crowd thins out as everyone troops up to their exits. Chanyeol watches them all hurry along, their eyes on the ground, none of them looking at him. They don’t know Chanyeol just came back from a two-and-a-half-week trip to hell. They will probably never know. 

A figure stands up from where it’s crouching to tie its shoe and starts moving slowly towards the stairs. Male, thin-shouldered, black hair. Chanyeol’s heart pounds, because he recognizes the slope of his shoulders, the way he moves. How could he forget? He’s spent the past seventeen days staring at the back of that head. 

He almost doesn’t say anything, heart in his throat. He almost doesn’t dare, scared he’s imagining things. But it’s not like he has anything to lose. “Kyungsoo?” 

The figure turns, and Chanyeol springs out of his seat. His hair is short and black, his cheeks are a little rounder, there are thick glasses sitting on his nose, but it’s Kyungsoo. His eyes are round as he looks at Chanyeol across the tracks, and Chanyeol can’t move, he can’t even _breathe._ He’s simultaneously elated and terrified, because for a long, frozen moment, Kyungsoo doesn’t respond. 

“Chanyeol?”

The northbound train is rattling down the tracks, and it’s a dramatic backtrack to possibly the single most emotional moment of Chanyeol’s life. Because this does not just mean that Kyungsoo made it out of the game. This means that the whole thing was real. This means that Chanyeol _won._ He didn’t fail. He beat the game. 

“Exit 1,” Chanyeol yells, just as his train blocks Kyungsoo from view. He turns and hurtles up the stairs, praying that Kyungsoo heard him, that he’s doing the same, that he’ll still exist when the train leaves. Chanyeol cannot afford for this to be an illusion. 

He clearly has longer legs than Kyungsoo, because by the time Chanyeol gets to Exit 1 of the station, Kyungsoo’s not there yet. He halfway works himself into a panic, heart pounding loud enough for the whole station to hear it. 

“Chanyeol!”

He turns, and suddenly his arms are full, and arms are squeezing around his middle, and Chanyeol is clinging to Kyungsoo as if Chanyeol will fall apart if he lets go. He think he really might. 

“Oh my god,” Kyungsoo says, his voice muffled into Chanyeol’s shoulder. Their chests heave against each other, and Chanyeol can feel both of them shaking. “I thought you were dead oh my _god._ ” 

“I wasn’t sure if I won,” Chanyeol gasps, sliding one hand into Kyungsoo’s hair. It’s shorter than it was in the game, unfamiliar, and Chanyeol is going to memorize this feeling. This whole moment. “I thought maybe I didn’t win.”

“You triggered the end cutscene, it was enough to win the game, the credits rolled. But you were dead, you died, I—”

“I woke up two hours ago, I’m here, I made it, we both made it.” Chanyeol swallows hard, buries his face in Kyungsoo’s throat, breathes in his warm smell. “I didn’t know how to _find_ you.”

Kyungsoo laughs, an overwhelmed sound that vibrates against Chanyeol’s lips. “I have two sets of memories. I’ve been here this whole time, _and_ there, it’s so fucked up, I’m so fucked up. I already had two sets of memories in the game. I have _three_ now.”

Chanyeol holds him tighter, squeezes Kyungsoo against his body, closes his eyes as a couple hot tears trickle out. “We’ll figure things out,” he whispers. “I’m just. I’m so glad you’re here. We’re both here. Home. I was so fucking scared.”

“Fuck, I love you,” Kyungsoo breathes. 

A noise crawls out of Chanyeol’s throat against his will, something like a laugh and a sob and a hiccup, and he pulls back to press one firm kiss against Kyungsoo’s lips. He doesn’t want to stop, but they _are_ in public, and Chanyeol was not brought up to make out with boys in the middle of a subway station. No matter how badly he wants to. 

Kyungsoo’s eyes are red and wet when he pulls away, and he laughs as he takes off his glasses to scrub at them. Chanyeol beams down at him uncontrollably, fingers curled in the soft fabric of Kyungsoo’s shirt. He looks a lot different from how he did in the game—a little older, more filled out, and the glasses and hair and the casual clothes make a world of difference—but he also looks just like Kyungsoo. Chanyeol’s heart squeezes. 

“My apartment is just a couple stops away,” Kyungsoo says suddenly, clearing his throat. “Do you, uh. Do you want to come over for a bit?”

Chanyeol nods wordlessly, still smiling. They get all the way down to the northbound platform before Chanyeol says, “Earthbound-you better not have gotten a boyfriend while game-you was going around falling for dashing heroes.”

Kyungsoo bursts out laughing, loud and open. “Luckily for you, earthbound-me has been chronically single since high school.”

Chanyeol slides his hand into Kyungsoo’s, revelling in the feeling of skin contact, but simultaneously a little surprised when no stats pop up anywhere. “Very lucky for me,” he says, grinning. 

A full minute of silence passes before Kyungsoo suddenly speaks again. “Earthbound-me is also asthmatic,” he says, voice low. “And a neat-freak. And between jobs.” He doesn’t look at Chanyeol. “Is that okay?”

Chanyeol blinks, then laughs. “Soo,” he says, and he feels Kyungsoo relax slightly beside him. “You dealt with my PTSD for weeks. And trust me, I’m no saint in any world. I think we’ll work something out.”

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo whispers, and then the train arrives. 

 

Kyungsoo’s apartment is tiny and obviously cheap, but it’s perfectly clean, as promised, and it’s only one subway stop away from Chanyeol’s sister’s. Bonus. 

They sit down on his floral-print sofa (“I picked it up at a thrift shop, shut up”), and they end up sprawled out along it, with Kyungsoo tucked up against Chanyeol’s side. It’s wonderfully comfortable, and Chanyeol closes his eyes and just enjoys it until Kyungsoo makes a soft, annoyed sound, and Chanyeol realizes he’s waiting to be kissed. He grins, then gladly obliges. 

Kissing Kyungsoo without having to think about whether or not they’re going to be attacked in the next few minutes, and without hard armour between them, and without thinking they might not both make it through to the end, is unspeakably amazing. They could spend hours here, in Kyungsoo’s apartment, making out, and Chanyeol wouldn’t have to think about dying once. And Chanyeol is going to do that. Maybe not today. Maybe today they should spend some time talking. But he’ll do it someday. Spend a whole day kissing. Or a whole night. There will be no swords in close reach, and no robots waiting just outside, and it’ll be fantastic. 

For now, Chanyeol sucks on Kyungsoo’s lower lip, and lets him shift half on top of him, and helps Kyungsoo take off his glasses to drop them over the side of the couch onto the floor so that they don’t get in the way. He realizes he hasn’t brushed his teeth, and he also hasn’t eaten anything, because he’d honestly forgotten he _needed_ those things, but Kyungsoo doesn’t seem to care that he tastes like morning breath and apple juice. He lets their mouths slide together, lets Kyungsoo feel how fast his heart is beating, and lets himself commit this feeling to memory. Chanyeol would not mind if he forgot the entire period of time he spent in that game, but this, he doesn’t want to forget. 

A clock somewhere strikes the hour, and Chanyeol jolts in surprise, heart rabbiting with panic, and Kyungsoo laughs and whispers, “I know,” and pulls him back down and kisses him some more. 

Eventually they sit up again and they talk about themselves. Kyungsoo opens up about all the things he’d kept silent on up until now—his family, his schooling, the jobs he’s had in the past two years while he’s simultaneously been in the game—and Chanyeol shares freely in return. Sometimes they lapse into silence, and Kyungsoo’s face goes blank, and Chanyeol waits for him to come back. When he does, Kyungsoo talks softly about how mixed up everything is in his brain, how confusing it is to try to wrap his head around both timelines at the same time, because two separate parts of him woke up this morning with an extra set of memories or two. Chanyeol doesn’t understand that—he will never understand that—but he listens and nods and says soothing words, and Kyungsoo smiles at him like that’s exactly what he’s always needed. 

Things are messed up, but for the first time in weeks, Chanyeol says everything is going to be okay, and he actually believes it. 

 

On the same morning, somewhere across Korea, a weathered watchman relishes his lack of grief. A mountain-dwelling rebel sheds his second identity like an old skin and soaks in the sight of greenery. A bitter boatman laughs at his window view of the Han River. Two war raiders breathe in twin breaths of clean air. A fifteen-year-old genius clings to his puzzled mother, eyes wet. His best friend googles the name Oh Sehun in hopes of finding him. A former officer and rebel leader embrace, tearful, and apologize over and over. A young villain feels guilt-free for the first time in what feels like his entire life.

And everything is going to be okay. 

 

 

Epilogue

 

On May 14, 2020, twelve young men gather in a living room that should probably only fit eight. There are knees knocking together on the floor, and three or four voices talking at once, and another three laughing, and enough pizza to feed twice as many people as are there. 

Chanyeol counts heads, makes sure they’re all present, and then stands up at the front of the room and says, “Gentlemen! I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve brought you all here.”

“Shut up, Chanyeol, this isn’t even your house,” Baekhyun says, laughing from his perch on Jongdae’s lap in the armchair. 

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Luhan adds, grinning. “For getting an apartment with an actual living room.”

“I picked it out,” Minseok pipes up, unimpressed.

“I heard there was going to be cake,” Jongin says. “I don’t see any cake.”

“Shut up, Jongin, the cake is supposed to be a surprise,” Sehun says, glaring. They’re holding hands, and are the most adorable thing Chanyeol has ever seen. Zitao sprawls across their laps happily.

“Cake?” Chanyeol says, perking up. “I was going to make a speech but I’m very interested in cake.”

“Speech!” Jongdae cheers, his chin hooked over Baekhyun’s shoulder. “Speech, speech, speech!”

“You won’t like Yeol’s speeches, they’re super cheesy,” Kyungsoo warns, but his eyes are warm. “And I know how you feel about emotions.”

“No, you know how I feel about Baekhyun crying on me,” Jongdae says. “Will Baekhyun cry?”

“Probably,” Chanyeol says with a grin. “Baekhyun always cries.”

“A real man is not afraid to show his emotions,” Baekhyun says primly. 

“Speech!” Yifan demands, chucking yet another empty pizza box onto a growing pile. “I’ve never heard Chanyeol’s cheesy speeches. This needs to change.”

Joonmyun and Yixing look up from their spot in the corner, talking quietly away from the chaos of the others, and gesture for Chanyeol to continue. 

Chanyeol clears his throat dramatically. “Gentlemen,” he says, low and solemn. “A year ago today, I heroically freed you all from the evil clutches of That-which-shall-not-be-named.”

“Boooooo,” calls Jongdae. 

Chanyeol grins. “But seriously. It’s been a year. A very crazy year. Right?”

“Right!” chorus a couple voices. Chanyeol laughs. 

“I haven’t been able to meet up with the lot of you as much as I would have liked. You’d think I deserved a vacation after, you know, saving a fictional world, but alas. Real life calls. And isn’t that a nice thing to be able to say?” There’s a smattering of chuckles. “I know I didn’t go through the same experiences as the rest of you, but honestly, guys, it’s been a pleasure going through the aftermath of world-saving with you.”

There’s a murmur of agreement, an affectionate coo from Baekhyun. 

“As far as I know, and I hope I’m right, there is not a single other person in this world that went through the same shit as we did. And as crazy and messed up as that is, it’s also pretty damn cool. The last year, and the time before that wherein each of us was in that game, has been—cover your ears, children—pretty fucked up. But if I had to choose who to go through that with—” Chanyeol spreads his arms. “It would be you.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then Jongdae says, “That _was_ cheesy.” A couple people applaud, and the younger boys cheer.

“Are you saying we’re the people you’d drag with you into video game hell?” Minseok asks, looking mock affronted. 

“Uhhhh,” Chanyeol says. “That’s a trick question.”

“I think it’s time for cake,” Kyungsoo says, smiling. “I’ll go get it.”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Sehun grumbles. 

The cake comes out a minute later, lit up with at least thirty candles, and Chanyeol laughs as Baekhyun starts up a round of _For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow._ The icing on the cake says “Thanks for saving us!” 

“Aww, you guys,” Chanyeol gushes. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Seriously,” Kyungsoo says, rolling his eyes. “He’s got a big enough head as it is.” But he squeezes Chanyeol’s hand all the same. 

Chanyeol cuts the cake and puts slices on paper plates, and he hands them out one by one. “Thanks for saving me,” he tells Yifan. “Thanks for saving me,” he tells Yixing. “I haven’t forgiven you for the river monster fiasco,” he tells Joonmyun. “Thanks for saving me in the cutscene, and also for the flamethrower,” he tells Baekhyun and Jongdae. “You robbed me, you brat,” he tells Sehun. “You got yourself arrested,” he tells Jongin. “You were actually amazing,” he tells Minseok. “You did nothing for me, but I forgive you,” he tells Luhan. “Thanks for not blowing me to bits,” he tells Zitao. Everyone gives him matching grins and laughter.

By the time he finishes making his rounds, Kyungsoo already has his slice, and Chanyeol is disappointed, because he had a speech for Kyungsoo, too. But he figures he can give it later, when they’re alone, and instead he kisses Kyungsoo on his icing-sweet lips, and shoots Sehun the finger when he groans. 

“Thanks for saving me,” he whispers, and Kyungsoo beams. 

It has not been an easy year. There have been meltdowns, there have been group therapy sessions, there have been panic attacks in response to violence and fire and water. None of them have touched a video game, and only a couple have started watching TV again. Some of them still wake up panicking that they’re back in Paran, afraid for their lives, and all of them still dream about it. But they have a support system, they have a group chat if they need to talk, they have been settling back into normal life. It’s been harder for some than others, and it has not been easy for any of them, but every couple of weeks, someone writes in the group chat, “Hey, at least we’re not fighting for our lives, right?” 

_And at least we have each other,_ goes unsaid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE DONE BABIE!!!!!!!!!! wow. what a good time. rereading and editing this fic was a lot of fun, and i'm grateful for all of u who went through the process with me :') shoutout @ the 6 people who regularly commented on chapters, it was such a blessing!!!! yall are the best. 
> 
> also, there's a FAQ [here](https://allhandson-deck.livejournal.com/42636.html) that might clarify if you have any questions!! if you have any questions not answered there, feel free to ask in a comment and i'll do my best to answer ^^ 
> 
> I don't have many public accounts anymore but if u wanna ask me something, I have a [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/jumpthisship)!
> 
> this fic has a few short sequels and things, which i will be posting in the coming days! 1 decent-sized sequel (i think like 9k?) and 2 drabbles. so keep an eye out! but the main story is def over. i love my boys :') 
> 
> OK BYE ILY


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